Ando
by LongLiveTheClones
Summary: Takes place directly after "Whatever Happened to Captain Rex?" Travis, Catcher and the Ando Legion are headed back to their hidden ice planet after winning the Battle of Darkknell. The renegades are free of the Republic, but what hidden dangers are lurking in a hostile galaxy at war? A collaboration by longlivetheclones, Reulte, impoeia, and laloga. Art by gloryblaz.
1. Chapter 1 Journey Home - Character Guide

_A/N: Welcome to Ando! This story picks up immediately after the end of "Whatever Happened to Captain Rex?" (a.k.a. "Rex I.") Ando is a collaborative effort between Reulte, laloga, Impoeia and Longlivetheclones. We've each called "dibs" on certain characters and will be writing their character plot lines consistently throughout Ando. Since multiple authors are contributing to each chapter, you may notice different writing styles. If you've read our fics before, you may be able to discern which of us contributed each of the sections._

**Ando**

**Chapter One**

Travis did his best to suppress a wince as Mako wrapped the compression bandage around his hand. The medic had a gentle touch, but the pain was worse than when he'd stupidly taken on a frozen Andoan tree.

"Mako, I won't be able to use my hand at all if you wrap it like that," Travis objected, scowling as the medic continued to apply the stiff bandaging material.

"Exactly," Mako said, fixing the Marine with a stern look. He gestured to the combat engineer sitting in the co-pilot's chair. "Put Gavex to work."

Gavex shrugged. "Not that I know the first thing about flying. Being a combat engineer doesn't mean-"

Mako shook his head, and cut Gavex off. "You can do it." He turned his attention back to Travis, who was already getting ready to argue with him. Travis hadn't even gotten a word out before the medic had already shut him up. "You seriously injured a limb that was barely healed. You're close to having irreversible nerve damage. You don't want to lose use of your hand." He held up the stump of his wrist.

Travis tried to figure out an effective counter-argument. But, after a long moment of studying Mako and the determined look in his eyes, he conceded. The medic also looked exhausted. Now was _not_ the time to give him flak. "Alright."

Mako nodded with satisfaction. "I have to head back to medbay. I'll be back to check on you when I can."

"I'll be fine, Mako. Go on."

"I know you will." His response suggested he was talking about much more than Travis' hand. A look of sadness entered the medic's eyes. "We all will… in time."

Travis curled his fingers around Mako's wrist. "You did good today."

The medic shook his head, pain shadowing his face. "We lost brothers."

"We did," Travis acknowledged, "but we also saved thousands of our vode in the 501st and 212th. We did what we set out to do."

Mako stared out the viewscreen, his eyes slightly glazed. Travis could tell he was working through emotions and after-battle stresses. It would take all of them a while to recover, physically and mentally. The medic's eyes refocused and he turned and left the cockpit.

Travis turned his attention back to the controls. "Give me a nav-coordinate reading."

"A what now?" Gavex asked, glancing around at the myriad of controls.

Travis snorted and pointed with his good hand. "That one, vod."

"Got it," Gavex said, and immediately started reading off numbers.

Travis sighed, and felt himself relax slightly as he double-checked numbers against the nav-computer. They were finally going home to Ando.

# # #

"Mako," Tank called gently to not disturb the resting wounded, "if you like, I'll take your notes."

Mako shook his head. "Karyn will need these as soon as we land. I need to get them done."

"Of course, Mako," Tank tried again. The medic was exhausted after working non-stop for the past 12 hours to stabilize all of the injured men. Mako's energy levels had been near frenetic as he worked to address everyone's injuries. He'd been going non-stop since the start of the battle. Tank could see the medic was wavering on his feet, and showing signs of collapse. "Why don't you just rest a moment, reciting them for me? And I'll write them down?"

"I'm fine," Mako objected, his words coming out slightly slurred from fatigue. "I can do this."

"I didn't mean to imply any different." Tank thought of another tactic. "We'll all need you when we land. Karyn will need you in surgery. She'll need you rested and ready to assist or take over." Tank held out one hand for the stylus and flimsi, his other tapping the pull-down bunk at his side. "She'll need you more than she'll need the notes."

Mako cast a worried look toward Hodges, the most wounded man not in a bacta tank. The trooper hadn't been stable enough after surgery to be put into bacta and had to be monitored at all times. "But, Hodges-"

"I'm on it, Mako. You've shown me how to track his vitals. _Five_ times already, vod. Clank is with him now. Somebody will be with him at all times until we reach Ando, as per your instructions."

The exhausted medic sighed. "I'll lie down for a moment. But, I'm not going to sleep."

Tank nodded solemnly. "Understood." He patted the bunk. Mako finally nodded and relinquished his work.

The gunner nodded with satisfaction. He'd learned a thing or two during his time in medbay. He'd not only assisted Mako in surgery, learning how to use a sonic scalpel and laser cauterizer, but he'd also mastered the basics of the sample analyzer, flex-clamps, synth-flesh, spray hypos, and bone stabilizers.

"_Rest_, Mako," Tank said firmly, again, when it looked like the young medic was going to rise up again.

The former bomb technician finally lay down in the bunk and began dictating notes. "Alright, Tank, write this down. Worst case, Hodges; multiple slugs to chest and abdomen. Trooper sustained initial battle blast injury and was treated on-site by Commander Offee, and then injured again by slugthrower fire..." He yawned widely. "Initial treatment upon arrival onboard ship was..." Mako yawned, and started again. "Treatment was... " The medic dropped off into an exhausted slumber.

# # #

"So, Hodges, that's why I switched to working on the docks," Clank spoke softly to the unconscious man, a quiet murmur in the near silence of the med unit. He glanced up and wondered why wounded men didn't snore. There was a barely audible whistling sound from Mako's breathing as he slept and the scratching of stylus on flimsi as Tank wrote notes from his memory of the wounded men. He would occasionally stop and shake his hand as if trying to get cramps out of his fingers.

Clank rubbed his own wounded leg. The anesthetic was wearing off from where Mako had removed two slugs. Numbness was retreating before a slight tingling and the cold of the bacta patch. From experience Clank knew he had a while before he would need another painkiller. He glanced at the med-fluid line attached to Hodges, making sure it was flowing correctly.

He looked over to the four bacta tanks and thought back to the first hours after they'd left Darkknell. Ice, the commando with the head injury, had been placed into bacta as soon as he'd been brought onboard. The snipers, Ven and Huii, had both been hit with multiple blaster shots during their crucial role in the beginning stages of the battle in the dungeons. However, they were already recovering well in bacta. Blaze had wanted to share piloting duties with Travis, but Mako felt his burns warranted going into bacta right away. He'd suggested Gavex assist in the cockpit instead and ordered Blaze into bacta.

Hodges had taken a blaster burn early on in the battle protecting Commander Offee, and had gone on to the continue fighting in the dungeons. Toward the end of the fight, he'd taken a spray of slugthrower fire while throwing his armored form in front of a number of unarmed vode. He'd saved his brothers, but was now barely clinging to life. Mako had been pale and tense throughout the surgery to remove three slugs from Hodge's torso, assisted by Tank. He'd been on edge ever since, worried he was going to lose another brother before they reached Ando.

# # #

Scythe rested quietly on his side. It was easier to breathe and, although the bandage was tight around his chest - compression pressure for the slug wound he'd taken that Mako thought might have nicked his lung - Scythe actually didn't feel bad at all. Maybe the painkiller was the cause of that or maybe it was the thought of going home to Ando.

It was quiet in medical; Mako breathing quietly as Tank continued to write up notes for the exhausted medic, and Clank whispering softly to Hodges in the next bed. He could barely hear what the other trooper was saying, but several times Clank heard entreaties for Hodges to stay alive. They were almost home.

Scythe closed his eyes. Bad idea. Images of the battle kept replaying in his mind. He buried his head in his arms, his fists tightly clenched in frustration. The battle was over. Why couldn't he stop thinking about it?

There were dead vode. They weren't going home. There was something very wrong about it. Scythe decided he was suddenly very weary of war.

# # #

Hodges wandered in and out of the gray shades of consciousness. Sometimes he heard Clank's quiet voice telling him that he'd left his host because she was a wonderful woman and he wasn't sure he deserved her. Sometimes Hodges heard Till talking about his lovely Shersti and how he'd never leave her again.

_Till?_ Something tickled at the edges of his brain. _Hadn__'__t something happened to Till?_

Hodges didn't have a woman. He'd gone to the bar once with Ax and Red who promised to find him a woman. Hodges had an enjoyable time at the bar. His vode taught him a new skill they called "learning to flirt." It was _not_ something they've covered in training at Kamino. But, none of the women seemed right.

It wasn't how they looked. Hodges cussed himself all the way back to his host's house with the knowledge that he could have gone home with that lean, elegant brunette with jade-colored eyes. He told himself he was a fool for declining the invitation from the curvy blonde with the sweet smile. He'd been appalled at his refusal of the bold redhead who had reached down and let Hodges know exactly what she wanted.

Hodges had gone back to his host who, with wide surprised eyes, told him she hadn't expected to see him for another day or two.

Hodges had shrugged. "I didn't find anyone I really liked."

She had laughed, shaking her head. "You are one picky man."

He had glanced at the floor then into her eyes with a worried look. "Is that bad?"

Her expression had gone gentle. "Not for this, Hodges. You wait until you're sure; until you are absolutely positive you've found the right one."

# # #

_Shab, Keen thought with a scowl. Cavil's snoring again._

Honestly, it was ridiculous. How the fek was a man supposed to get any kriffing sleep? Normally Keen could sleep anywhere, regardless of what went on around him, but for some reason the droning buzz of his medic vod's snores always woke him up.

The worst part was that Cavil slept like a dead man, and no amount of prodding, punching or kicking would wake him up. Let an alarm go off, or a clone patient make a tiny grunt of discomfort, and Cavil would spring to his feet like a crinking jakrab, ready for action. Keen sometimes wondered if the other medic had trained himself to ignore Keen, or if Keen was special.

He thought about saying something, but he was tired. Exhausted, really. Plus his brain felt like it was covered in molasses. Maybe he could ignore the noise.

Keen tried to fall back asleep, but the buzz only seemed to get worse. Actually...it didn't stop. How the fek was Cavil snoring like this without even taking a breath? With a sigh of annoyance, Keen urged his eyes to open so he could kick his vod in his bunk and tell him to shut the hell up. If nothing else, it would make him feel better.

When his eyes opened, there was only darkness.

His damn head still felt sluggish, so it took him a few moments to register the fact that he was not in a bunk, but on a ship of some kind. The buzz was that of an engine; he could feel the bulkhead vibrate beside his arm. An inhale brought the scent of bacta, durasteel, and unwashed clones. But he couldn't make out a damn thing.

_Where the fek am I?_

"Is he waking up?"

"He shouldn't be. I gave him enough meds to keep him out until we reach– "

The first clone shushed the second, who replied in a slightly exasperated voice, "There's no one else here, Tank. We don't have to hide any more. We're all going to the same place."

The second clone sighed. The sound was almost lost behind the buzz of ship's engines. "Yeah, I know, Mako. New habits, I guess."

To an outsider, their voices would have been indistinguishable from one another, but Keen picked up on the subtle differences between each. The first speaker's voice was deeper, and his words held an edge. The second clone sounded younger, but calm. Almost medic-calm.

Keen took a breath and tried to push past the thickness in his head. If a medic was monitoring him, then obviously he was injured. That would also explain the mugginess; the feeling was consistent with a hefty dose of symoxin, a standard analgesic. There was also a little tickle in his throat, sort of like he had to clear it, but the muscles felt thick and filmy, and he couldn't do more than swallow.

Was Cavil hurt, too? Keen tried to twist his head to the side to find his brother, but a steadying hand braced itself against his chest. "Calm down there, vod. Just take it easy."

Keen rolled his eyes. Like he wanted anyone to kriffing tell him what to do. He opened his mouth to give this other fellow a piece of his mind, but the other clone cut him off. "We will put you in a bacta tank, if you don't stay still."

Fek you, Keen thought, ignoring the other medic. From the sounds of it, this Mako guy was a kid, barely vatted. Like hell he could give Keen – a senior medic – orders of any kind.

So he forced himself upright. Blood rushed through his body, threatening to disorient, but that was expected and Keen had prepared himself for the feeling. He took a few deep breaths and turned to look for Cavil again.

He saw nothing.

But it wasn't because there was nothing to see; his senses told him that he was in a ship, surrounded by other clones. It was that he couldn't kriffing see anything.

_Son of a fekking nerf herder. Am I fekking blind?_

He wasn't even upset. Angry, really. How the hell was he supposed to do anything if he couldn't see? Thinking back, he tried to remember what could have caused this. It took him a second, but he vaguely recalled an osik-ton of flash-bangs going off around him.

Just my kriffing luck. It would likely be temporary, though. Flash-blindness usually was. In fact–

"I'm not going to say it again: Lay. Down." That Mako character pushed his chest again, directing him back down. The kid had a medic's touch, alright; gentle but firm. Keen reluctantly allowed that realization before he gave the chuff-sucker a piece of his mind.

"And stay there," Mako added. Keen felt the press of a hypo against his neck, but the meds were not pushed into his bloodstream. "Feel this? Two hundred milligrams of symoxin. I will use it, if I have to."

Keen exhaled, but did not get up again. It wasn't because he was tired, either. He simply didn't want to waste his time arguing with some little twit. Ugh, Cavil would probably love the crinking guy, though. They were probably already best friends; Cav always had that way with folks. Everyone loved Cavil.

Too bad Keen was blind. He suddenly had an urge to put his eyes on his brother, just in case.

The other clone spoke before Keen could ask where Cavil was. "He's stubborn. That's a good sign, right?"

"Medics are always stubborn. They make the worst patients." Mako paused, and Keen heard the quiet beep of a heart-monitor, then a heavy, heavy sigh. "And they're the hardest to keep alive."

"How's that?"

"They're always in harm's way, and they never pay attention to what's going on around them. All they think about is saving lives."

"That's kind of the point..."

"I know." Mako sighed again. "But they get so busy saving the lives of others, they don't think about their own."

Keen frowned at the worry he'd picked up in each man's voice. A flicker of unease moved through him, but he pushed it aside. A little flash-blindness never killed anyone...unless they were dumb enough to stumble near a cliff or something.

"How long before we get to Ando?" Mako asked after a moment.

A pause, then the other clone answered. "Not long. Only about six hours."

"He'll need another dose before too long," Mako said. "That first one's probably starting to wear off."

No. Abso-kriffing-lutely not. No way was he getting shot up with any more painkillers. Yeah, his throat tickled a bit, but it wasn't anything worthwhile. Certainly nothing worth shoving him full of pain meds. Fek, he could hardly think clearly as it was.

Keen formed these words in his mind, but when he opened his mouth to say them, there was nothing.

Nothing. Not even a croak. He tried again; same result. Again. Again. His kriffing mouth flapped open and closed like a fragging gooberfish, but nothing happened. He made no sound. He had no voice.

_What. The. Fek?_

Panic grabbed his chest and squeezed. It woke him up. The fuzzy haze in his mind began to clear, and his memories seeped though. Battle. There was a battle. Gas of some kind. A burn in his throat, a shout, a spray of blood. Dread rolled into a tight, icy ball in his gut. His annoyance with Mako fell away, and Keen tried to sit up again, because he had to find Cavil. He had to know his vod was safe.

"Kriff, he's coming to," Mako said, and Keen felt the other clone's hands press against his shoulders, urging him down. "Help me, Tank."

"Right."

Another set of hands joined the first, but Keen fought against them both. He struggled, twisted. His body screamed at him, using pain to tell him that he needed rest, but he ignored it. He ignored Mako's stern voice that held a pleading edge, ignored Tank's call to "lay the fek back down." None of it mattered. None of it was anything.

Where was Cavil?

But he knew.

The memories that flooded his brain revealed it all. Darkknell's poison gas. A battle in the dungeons, in the darkness. Cavil and Keen, fighting side-by-side to save every clone they could, just like they'd always done, before they were taken prisoner.

A shot. Just one. It seemed so odd, really, that one little bolt of energy could do so much damage. Funny, in a sick, twisted way. Just one shot.

It'd been enough. Cavil had fallen. Keen could still feel the spray of his brother's blood upon his face. No. Not you. Please, not you. You're the nice one. No one ever liked me if you weren't there, too. You weren't supposed to die.

It should have been me.

Keen felt the metallic press of a hypo to his neck, then a sting as the meds were pushed through his skin to his waiting bloodstream. He felt his limbs relax – against their will – as the meds took hold. The thick-as-molasses feeling in his skull returned, and he wished to the Force or some fekking god or another that he could curse aloud.

"Easy, easy," Mako murmured as the hypo lifted away and the darkness began to descend. "It'll be okay, buddy."

_No, it fekking won't. _

# # #

_A/N: Updates to Ando will be on Fridays. As the story progresses, we will meet more members of the Andoan Legion (thank you to everyone who contributed names) and more people and places in the town. _

_Welcome to Ando!_

* * *

**Character Guide**

Timeline: The story takes place directly after "Whatever Happened to Captain Rex?" (Rex I) and runs up until Order 66. The timeline of Ando will run concurrently to Rex II. The clones of Ando are still in their Phase I armor, since this is what they were wearing when they were sent to Kamino.

Ando is a planet somewhere in the backwaters of the Outer Rim, located between Coruscant and Kamino.

**Clones of the Andoan Legion (original characters):**

**ARCs:**

Catcher - ARC Captain. Originally 327th Star Corps. Leader of the Andoan Legion after Rex leaves to return to Coruscant. Originally decommissioned due to an injury to his spine, he has regained mobility thanks to a pioneering technology that integrates braces on his legs, with implants in his spine. While he originally considered himself an "experiment gone wrong," he mastered the technology and functioned very well during the Battle of Darkknell. Hosted by Ashla, an Andoan with a talent for technology and a great passion for ARC Captains.

Dart – ARC trooper. Decommissioned due to hip injury. His belligerent attitude causes him to challenge Rex on the initial flight to Kamino. He is subsequently surprised when Rex picks him for the elite commando team on the Darkknell mission. On Ando, he saves the the life of a young girl, Genna, and later falls in love with the widowed mother, Aen.

**Marines:**

Travis- Long-time friend of Rex who has known him since command school on Kamino. Fully deaf in both ears, and unlike the scouts, has been successful in recovering any hearing. Has an excellent grasp of technology, and also an interest in politics. Passionate, fiercely intelligent, but not always in control of his emotions.

Torch- Decommissioned due to an eye injury that caused blindness in one eye. Has a scar running down the side of his face. For a brief time, Torch was Rex's second in command, but suffered a head injury during the initial crash landing on Ando.

Lance- A medic from the Marine Corps. See medics.

**Regular troopers:**

Ax - 55th Mechanized Brigade. Decommissioned due to head injury and leg injury. Injured in the same explosion that sent Drax to Kamino.

Drax - AT-AT Gunner. Sent to Kamino for severe hand injury. Wears the traditional burgundy striping of the 55th Mechanized Brigade.

Hodges- Cheerful, helpful good-natured clone who helps Rex out when they first crash-landed. 55th Mechanized Brigade. Came from same unit as Ax, Drax and Tek.

Tek- 55th Mechanized Brigade. Distinctive brown armor. Has a talent for fixing anything of a technical nature. Knew Hodges, Tek, Ax and Drax prior to Ando.

Clank - a clone that Mako tends to in the battle

Det – Decommissioned due to leg injury . Hosted by Kat.

Gavex - Helpful clone that likes to feed everyone.

Gears - 182nd Legion. A visually-impaired clone who is gifted with mechanical things; was ship's mechanic and mechanic on all trades on Ando. Mainly white armor with stripes of light blue down his arms.

Griff - One of the wounded clones with Lance, Kix, Tek, and Gears on the pirate raider when the Kazzies attack.

Price- He was "head of inventory" after the ship crashed on Ando. Good with organizing things.

Quinn – Decommissioned for head injury/seizures. Demolitions engineer. Hosted by Maya.

Red - Legion sniper with nerve damage.

Shred- Decommissioned due to gas-seared lungs.

Storm- Rex has a run-in with this clone on the initial journey to Kamino. Remarks on this clone's unstable temperament.

Sparks- 203rd Division. Wears green armor. Escorts Kix to and from the pirate raider.

Till- a combat engineer from the 38th Armored Division. Killed early on in the Battle of Darkknell. Mako is devastated when he is unable to save him. Till was an even-tempered trooper, well-liked by his brothers, and known to be very much in love with the Andoan woman, Shersti.

**Heavy Gunners:**

Shadow- Decommissioned due to hip injury. One of four heavy gunners in the legion (a rotary gunner) and considered the leader of the heavy gunner squad, although he holds no rank above the others. A highly-competent leader, but considers himself a 'shadow' of the man he used to be due to his injury and subsequent dismissal from the GAR. Prone to bouts of depression, although he hides both his physical and emotional pain from his brothers always putting up an outwardly show of confidence and competence.

Hopper - A quad gunner in Shadow's squad. Initially decommissioned due to nerve damage in hands. Like all the clones, he has the unique ability to adapt. During his time on Ando, he has learn to fight again as a gunner.

Tuck - a quad gunner in Shadow's squad who isn't afraid to speak his mind. Known for his outspoken opinions on a variety of subjects, and now that he is decommissioned, even challenges Commander Tano about her viewpoints during the Battle of Darkknell.

Edge - a rotary gunner in Shadow's squad. Known for his flirtatious nature. Ahsoka describes him as a "Fives in the making."

Tank- a one-legged trooper in the Andoan legion. Lost his leg from the hip on down. Assigned housing with the widow, Sia, and her two children, Nikka, and, Tinkrik. He is a chain gunner, but declined an invitation to join the heavy gunner's squad due a preference to working alone.

**Medics:**

Lance - Chief medic of the Legion. Sent to Kamino for burns and nerve damage. Beloved by all in the Legion. A Marine, but from a different division from Torch and Travis.

Mako - Lost a hand while working as a bomb squad technician. Now retraining as a medic. Considered a junior medic to Lance. When Lance is injured on Darkknell, Mako has to take over all the medic duties on the flight home to Ando.

Keen- a Medic from the 212th Legion. While treating his wounded brothers in the dungeons, including his best friend and fellow medic, Cavil, he is hit with a full dose of poisonous gas. Suffers blindness and gas-seared lungs. Kix, Coric and Mako decide his best/only hope is Ando.

**Paralyzed clones:**

Razor- Originally a pilot. One of the five who was in a biobed on the original voyage to Kamino. Lives with Killtric and Tiruna on Ando. Paralyzed from waist down, he has regained limited use of his hands. Has a brilliant, visionary mind and many ideas for the future of Ando.

Saber*- Originally from the 41st Elite under Commander Gree. In a biobed on the original journey to Kamino. Limited use of his legs. Poor coordination in his hands.

Sink- The most seriously injured of all the clones in the Legion. Originally a scout. One of the five who was in a biobed on the original voyage to Kamino. A quadriplegic. Assigned to live with Auset on Ando.

Tag- A member of the 41st Elite under Commander Gree. Dismissed from the GAR due to paralysis.

**Pilots:**

Chance- a combat pilot with a calm, reserved, even temperament. Sent to Kamino because of a leg injury. Flew for 91st Reconnaissance Corps. Best friend to Odds. Dies on Darkknell.

Odds- a combat pilot sent to Kamino because of the loss of his right arm at the shoulder. Known for his wise-cracking sense of humor. Quickly becomes a womanizer on Ando. Used to fly LAATs for the Lancer Battalion. Seriously injured when the ship is raided by Kazzies, and Chance is killed. Blames himself for his brother's death.

**Republic Commandos:**

Ice- A member of Leon's RC squad. Suffers a serious head injury after being brutally clubbed by a Kazzie. Kix and Mako make a quick decision on the landing pad at Darkknell to decide Ice's fate. With the blessing of Leon, they send the critically-brain injured clone to Ando.

Blaze- Instrumental in training fellow clones while on Ando. Helps Catcher in the early days when he needs motivation to get his shebs moving again and off to therapy. Together with Viper, they literally carry him down the steps everyday until he is finally tired of being carried and learns to walk the stairs himself.

Viper- Senior most Republic Commando on Ando. Innovative tactician and highly skilled at coming up with training drills. Best friend to Blaze. Killed on Darkknell.

**Scouts:**

Hok- Leader of the scout squad. Sent to Kamino for deafness. First member of the Legion to come into contact with anyone from Ando. He is also the first deaf clone to regain any portion of his hearing.

Jagger- Decommissioned due to deafness. a scout in Hok's squad. Second in command of the scouts after Hok. Originally fully deaf, but eventually regains partial hearing. Known for his preference for being outdoors. Named for the jagged scar down his left cheek. He is the geography and terrains expert on the team and has a deep, abiding respect for the land.

Sabre*- Decommissioned due to deafness. most cynical member of Hok's squad. Like the other three scouts, he was originally deafened in an explosion, but eventually regains partial hearing due to successful treatments on Ando. Resentful of Xyra and her relationship with Hok, feeling she "took away" their squad leader. He decides not to "waste any energy chasing down women" like his brothers.

Flex- Decommissioned due to deafness, a scout in Hok's squad. Originally fully deaf, but regained partial hearing. Still self-conscious about his disability, despite having regained some hearing. Reluctant to talk to women. Earned his name due to his love of dancing. Works down at the docks. Assigned housing with an elderly woman known as Henna.

**Snipers:**

Kinks- the lead sniper in the Andoan Legion. Originally from 566th Company. Trooper who painted the ship "Spirit of Ando."

Huii- Sniper. Seriously injured during the early stages of the battle in the dungeons.

Trail- Sniper of the Andoan Legion. Killed during the Battle of Darkknell.

Box- sniper

Ven- Sniper. Seriously injured at the same time as Huii.

Scythe- sniper

**Snowtroopers:**

Tomm- 313th Legion. Vision-impaired in one eye from a snowspeeder accident on the planet Asuin. Carries a DLT-20A.

Hugh- 313th Legion. Missing a hand. Sent to Kamino from the same accident that injured Tomm. Carries identical weapondry and kit to his brother.

**THE PEOPLE OF ANDO:**

Aen and Genna – originally hosting Mako, but as Mako moved more into Karyn's as her apprentice and making friends with Olan and Ciri, Dart began keeping Aen and the little girl company especially after saving Genna's life.

Ashla- Captain of the "Manifest Destiny," a research vessel that ends up holding the key to the nerve damage many of the clones have, including Captain Rex. Host to Catcher. Had a little brother who was a paraplegic.

Auset- Friend and neighbor to Rosetta. Considered a "fallen woman" by the people of Ando. Takes in Sink, the most critically injured quadriplegic of the clones.

El'la- Owns a caf and sandwich stand down at the docks. She has a love for music and dance, and plays music while she works. Flex watches her and describes her as having: "hips that never stop moving. She dances while she works. She seems to have a music inside that cannot be quenched." Flex is fascinated by her but too painfully shy to ever speak a word to her.

Ewan - Elderly gentlemen. One of the few male survivors of Ando. Neighbor to Ashla. Brings food and folksy wisdom to Catcher before he gets "back on his feet." Adopted father to Kor, a young boy still traumatized by the war.

Kor- Adopted son of Ewan. Fascinated by Catcher, his new neighbor, but painfully shy. Interested in anything having to do with the clones and their crashed ship. A child of the war. Has many psychological issues from losing both parents during the war.

Henna - an older Andoan woman who acts as host to Flex. She has some skills with tools, but is tool old to do the work herself. So, she passed on her knowledge to Flex who was able to get repair work down at the docks. Henna jokingly refers to young Flex as her 'stud.'

Mrs. Hibbins (deceased) - an elderly woman briefly mentioned in passing. "Mrs. Hibbins" apparently decided not to have her knee replaced, thereby making a prosthetic knee available for Rex.

Ian and Ka'te - An elderly couple that owns a guapa ranch. Shy snowtrooper Tomm is fascinated by their herd of guapas, and this interest eventually wins out over fear of interacting with "civvies." He is eventually hired to work at the ranch.

Jade - Sister to Xyra. Not as much as her older sister, the respected scientist, or her cousin, the captain of the Manifest Destiny. She works on her cousin's ship, but has a talent and passion for art. Before the great Andoan War, she a typical, out of control teenager with dreams of going off-world to study. a university. Resents the smashing of her dreams and rebels against her sister's attempts to provide her with direction. Would like to be in a stable relationship, but makes bad choices when it comes to men.

Jade "Rose" (a.k.a. Lance's "Rose") – Andoan woman who ends up in a relationship with Lance after she is quarantined by the medic. First of the Andoan women to get pregnant by a clone.

Karyn - Strong-willed warrior leader of the Andoan people. Has held the 500 residents of the town together while the rest of the planet crumbled around them. She has been holding the dual roles of town leader and chief physician, even while undergoing great personal tragedy. During the Great War, she lost her husband, and then her twin teenage sons to the fighting. When the clones first arrived, she was originally attracted to Rex, but ended up in a passionate relationship with Travis.

Tiruna- Wife of Killtric, the older couple who acts as host to Razor, a paralyzed pilot.

Killtric- Taciturn, older Andoan male who acts as a strong father figure to Razor.

Olan- Retired tailor. Takes an instant liking to Mako and finds purpose in his retirement, making clothing for the new arrivals.

Ciri- Wife of Olan. After Mako helps repair their home, she develops an instant-liking for the soft-hearted clone and starts instant he eat meals with them whenever possible. Having lost their three boys in the war, Olan and Ciri start thinking of Mako as a son.

Rosetta - Wise, older rancher who is one of the first to meet the clones. (She offers to show Rex around town, and he makes a positive impression on her.) She has ample room on her ranch, so she offers to take in four of the five paralyzed clones, (all except for Catcher.) (Sink and Razor end up getting different host families later on.)

Xyra - Chief Scientist of Ando. Dives into the ocean to save Hok from the grips of the Oppee, (a massive sea creature with an apparent appetite for clone scouts.) It is love at first sight for the scientist and lead scout, despite the attempts of the other women on board to also get their grips into Hok.

**OTHER CHARACTERS IN THE STORY:**

Leon- Leader of a squad of commandos. Reports into General Unduli. Assigned to seek out the location of the two missing legions. They are close to Darkknell when they are also captured by the Kaz'harians. Leon's squad is thrown into the dungeons, while Leon and Unduli are taken to the labs for experimentation. (Ice is a member of Leon's squad.)

**More Facts About Ando:**

Ando experiences a thawing in late spring and summer, with milder temperatures. But, the melting snow turns everything turns to a muddy slush. Winters are long. Darkness comes early and severe storms are coming, often lasting for days.

The planet is undergoing change in weather patterns due to the Great Andoan War five years prior. Severe atmospheric damage is causing the winter storms to worsen each year, roughening the seas and dropping temperatures.

Ando Town, (also called Andoville and "Ando" since no other towns survived the war), lies in a naturally protected semicircular bay. The surrounding waters are somewhat heated due to underwater volcanos and thermal vents. These natural conditions attract all manner of ocean creatures who thrive in the waters off Ando Town. For centuries, fishing has been the mainstay of Ando Town and remnants of the town's once enormous fleet still survive.

The town has further natural protection thanks to mountain ranges on the north and south. The mountains also block the worst of the winter winds and storms, making it a comfortable place to live even on a planet with a rough climate.

Most everyone lives within the township itself and abides by a mutually agreed upon set of laws and rules. Times have been tough since the war and shortages are becoming more frequent. But, the people within Ando Town have shown a willingness to work together for their mutual survival.

However, there are some who live far up in the hills. They insist upon living by their own set of rules, and scratch out a substandard living without the benefit and support of those in the township. Due to their violent nature, these mountain people are known simply as "the outlaws."


	2. Chapter 2 Flashbacks

**Ando**

**Chapter 2**

Sensing he was being watched, Catcher looked up from where he was double-checking the compact 'pad containing the ref-manual for the PLY-5000. Quinn stood hesitantly by the cockpit door clutching his helmet in one hand.

"You going to stand there gawking all day?" the ARC Captain asked without turning around, "get your shebs in here and sit down." He jerked his helmeted head toward the co-pilot's station.

Quinn walked in slowly, as if coming toward his doom. He nervously sat down on the lush nerfhide chair, as if it were hiding a baby Sarlaac. "Not sure I'm qualified to be up here, Captain. All I ever did in the 38th Armored was construct and deconstruct things. I'm an engineer, not a co-pilot."

"And, I'm an ARC, a clone specially trained to act independently. Yet, suddenly I'm in charge of the Legion."

Quinn sucked in his breath, looking even more crestfallen, as he was reminded of the loss of Rex. The ARC Captain set down the 'pad and turned his full attention to the other clone. He gestured out the viewport. "Gavex is acting as co-pilot over on the medship, and he's a combat engineer. Sure he's perfectly happy being co-pilot."

"Sir, I get _seizures_."

"I have bio-mechanical legs. Are we having a contest?"

"No, sir, I mean-"

"I understand your concerns. It is also my understanding that you can tell when your seizures are coming on, correct?"

"Yes, but-"

"And, you've been having them with decreasing frequency and severity since your arrival on Ando. Did I miss anything?"

"I had a seizure during the _battle_. Hodges got injured," Quinn's voice took on a haunted tone. He gripped his helmet so tight that his fingertips turned white.

Catcher reached back and pried the bucket out of the engineer's fingertips, expertly clipping it to the other clone's belt with practiced ease. "None of that was your fault. Hodges was doing his job and covering a brother."

"He shouldn't have had to cover me!" Quinn said defensively, then immediately clasped a hand over his mouth, horrified at his outburst. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean-"

The ARC Captain put up a hand to forestall any more protests. He removed his own helmet, clipping it to his own belt in one smooth move. As he rubbed at my his eyes, his face showed his exhaustion. He pushed out a long breath. "Quinn, I know I'm your Captain, but for the next day, it's just you and me getting this fancy bird back to Ando. I am too tired for protocol. And, I don't have the energy to argue with you. Until our boots hit snow, we're just two vode who want to get home, alright?"

"Sir, yes, sir!" Quinn said, snapping off a sharp salute.

Catcher quirked up a brow and looked at the combat engineer like there was no hope for him. Quinn smiled. Realizing he'd been had, Catcher nodded with approval. "You'll do alright."

The combat engineer gestured to the controls. "Teach me to fly?"

The ARC nodded. "Alright, then, time for a crash course in piloting."

"Crash?" Quinn's enthusiasm immediately faded, and he gave the controls a dubious look.

"A favorite joke from ARC flight school. We're actually all decent pilots, considering how quickly we're trained. I plan on _this_ landing on Ando being much better than our first time down to the surface. I've flown a fair number of craft." He stroked his unshaven chin, and picked up the 'pad again. "Although, I've never flown a private luxury craft before."

The combat engineer's eyebrows shot up with concern again.

# # #

Four hours into the flight, the welcome smell of caf wafted into the cockpit.

Price brought them steaming caf in delicate, intricately-painted cups and laughed at their expressions.

Quinn studied the ornate cup in wonder. "I don't get it."

Catcher made a vague gesture toward the back of the ship. "There's strange stuff all over the ship." He snorted. "Civvies."

The combat engineer sniffed at the brew. "It smells _different_. You sure this is caf?"

"You've gotten used to Ando caf," Price said. "They've been getting by with improvised beans for years."

"I don't mind it," Quinn said defensively. "It's not much different from what we drank in the GAR. This…" He sniffed at the liquid in the cup again and gave the gilded cup another baffled look as if it might be a clever Separatist trap.

Catcher took a deep sip and smacked his lips. "_This_ is quality caf." He drained the cup. "Haven't had anything like it since Bly and I-" His voice trailed off and he shook his head, refusing to let himself get lost in memories. He handed the cup back to Price. "Keep it coming."

"Mako commed me privately to make sure you are eating regularly and watching your consumption of caf and stims," Price said. "You are also required to take a break every four hours-"

Catcher pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yes, Mako made his instructions very clear." He pointed to a chrono. "Timer is already set. Quinn here will be watching the controls when I take my mandatory 15 minute."

The combat engineer's eyes widened.

Price nodded. He gestured to Quinn's cup. "Are you done with that?"

The combat engineer carefully handed back the delicate dishware as if it would explode at any moment.

Catcher reached back and grabbed the mug from Price, grimacing as the wound in his side pulled. He finished the caf in one swig and relinquished the cup. Price left the cockpit, promising to return momentarily with food. "Alright," the ARC gestured back toward the controls, "let's turn you into a flyboy." He glanced toward the chrono, calculating the time before his mandatory rest period. "In two hours and twelve minutes."

# # #

Catcher yawned and rubbed his knuckles into his eyes, trying to clear away the grit.

Quinn looked over from where he was studying readings from the primary sensory array. "You alright, sir?"

The ARC Captain leaned back and stretched, keeping one hand resting lightly on the guidance and control console. "Just Catcher, alright?" But, he didn't really care what Quinn called him. The engineer was turning out to be an excellent co-pilot. He learned quickly and asked the right questions.

"Yes, sir-… yes." The engineer decided to try another tact. "Should I comm Price to bring up food again?"

"My body is screaming out for stims and caf. But, food would probably be a smarter choice."

Quinn arched an eyebrow at him, glancing at the hole in the side of Catcher's armor. "Your body is probably screaming at you to lie down and not get up for a few days."

The ARC snorted. "Yes, that, too, but I usually feel like fek at the end of every mission." He scrubbed at his face again, and studied a reading from the radial sublight engine. He made a slight adjustment to the stereoscopic sensor array on the port side, and then nodded with satisfaction. "Everything looks alright for the moment, so, yes, food would be good."

Price came into the cockpit a few minutes later and handed them each a silver pouch.

Catcher tore into the pack, and began eating without looking at the contents. It was practiced habit, from years of having little choice in what he ate.

Quinn took his time, and peered curiously at the contents. "Mmmmm…. these are such a nice change from fish stew." Catcher glanced over at the engineer, noticing his guilty flush. "Don't tell Maya."

"Bit tired of fish everything myself," Catcher admitted between bites. He shrugged, then regretted it as his side pulled. He turned his attention back to his food. "Still… the food on Ando beats rations."

"And, then there's dessert in bed," Price quipped.

Catcher guffawed, almost choking on the bite of food in his mouth. Knowing there was a chronic sugar shortage on the planet, his vod wasn't referring a sweet treat. Actually, no, correction, he _was_ referring- The ARC tried to pull his mind away from where it had plummeted at Price's comment. But, all he could see was naked Ashla in front of the fireplace gazing at him like he was the most amazing man in the fekkin' universe.

"Captain, you still with us?"

He started at Quinn's voice, and focused his attention on the remainder of his meal. He quickly finished the last few bites and handed the pouch back to Price.

"There are loads of these back in the galley," Price said. "You want another?"

Catcher shook his head, and picked up the 'pad, burying his face in the ref-manual.

"This ship has _everything,"_ Price started extolling the virtues of the luxury ship. Catcher ignored him, not wanting to talk anymore. But, the cheerful clone kept going on regardless. "I've been exploring. Not only are there plenty of these ready meals, but there's enough of that caf on this ship to sustain our Legion for several months, even with the way Captain Rex-" Price stopped, and his face fell.

A long uncomfortable silence stretched in the cabin at the mention of the five oh first Captain.

"He left us," Quinn said mournfully. He set his pouch down on his lap, his appetite lost.

"He had to go," Price argued passionately, "it was the five oh first." Price pressed his lips together. "And it was easier to see him go back to the GAR than losing him the way we've lost so many other brothers."

"But, _we_ were his Legion."

"Enough!" Catcher snapped. "The Captain's decision is not for us to debate or second-guess. He served the Legion well during a stressful time and we are better for his leadership. Now, we need to move forward. Is that clear?"

Both men automatically went to salute but Catcher cut them off before they could do so. He gestured to Quinn. The engineer half-heartedly finished his meal and handed the pouch back to Price who left the cockpit.

Catcher took several deep breaths, regretting snapping at the other troopers. He was over-tired and at the end of his tether. He reached a hand down and gingerly touched the aching wound in his side.

He was fiercely proud of his Legion. All of them. He shouldn't be fekkin' yelling at them. They had performed so well in the battle. They'd swept into the gas, smoke and darkness to fight for their brothers. They were some of the best fighters he'd ever worked with, and technically, they were all injured men. Tank pivoting on his crutch to handle his big gun with absolute precision; Shadow's squad forming a protective wall for Mako as he tended the wounded, the snipers sneaking into the dungeons at such great risk to themselves. They'd gone in against a force superior in both numbers and familiarity with the terrain and they'd only lost _five_ men.

Catcher blew out another long breath, prompting another concerned look from Quinn. He gave a negligible nod of his head, indicating he was fine.

There had been no guarantees any of them would make it out and the Ando Legion had only lost five men. An acceptable loss ratio. Actually, better than average.

But, he didn't see it that way; not anymore. He hadn't just lost five troopers. He'd lost vode that were starting new lives. Catcher considered what he'd say to the women of the dead when he returned. Vode understood about dying in battle. How would the women of Ando react?

He sucked in another breath.

"Sir?" Quinn said, worriedly.

Catcher didn't bother to correct him. He turned to the engineer. "What do you know about women?"

"Nothing. And, I live with one."

The ARC nodded. "Yeah. Me, too."

# # #

Quinn looked over at the slumbering ARC Captain. He didn't look so good. His face was pale and a fine sheen of sweat beaded on his forehead. He wondered if he should call Mako. But, so far, the Captain _seemed_ fine, if a bit more tense and short-tempered than usual. Considering how tired they all were, and the ARC had been shot, some irritability was understandable.

The engineer ran a full systems check, exactly as Catcher had shown him. All of the readings were in normal range. The ARC said not to touch anything unless something was "truly fekked" and then"wake his shebs up." So far, being a co-pilot wasn't nearly as difficult as Quinn had figured.

It was quiet now. Too much so. Left him too much time for thinking. He didn't want to think about the battle.

Quinn sighed and stared out the viewport, thinking about the medship. About Hodges.

He'd been partnered with the amiable trooper and they'd done a good job of watching out for each other. Hodges had taken a burn to the chest protecting Commander Offee, but she'd healed him up some. He said it still hurt when he moved certain ways, but it would hold until he got back to Ando. He promised to tell Quinn all about what Jedi healing was like. Quinn knew very little about Jedi, and had never even spoken to his General in the 38th Armored. But, he heard they could do amazing things. When he heard about Hodges getting quick healed, he felt a surge of hope. Maybe something could be done about his seizures. He wanted to ask Maya to marry him, but not while he still didn't trust his own body.

He and Hodges made a great team. All the way to the dungeons, they covered for each other, even when fire was coming at them fast and furious. Quinn felt like he did back in his days at the 38th and it felt pretty good. He and Hodges were good at anticipating each other's moves and covering each other's back. But, then they entered the dungeons and his HUD went out.

Without his dampeners and his visor to protect him, all the lights were too bright and the battle sounds were deafening. He tried to tune it all out and keep fighting. But the more they pressed on, the more he could feel the telltale signs coming on.

And, suddenly his body shut down. He could hear Hodges calling to him but he knew _this_ drill. He couldn't respond until he was released from his internal prison.

"Quinn, vod, you OK?" Hodges was taking heavy fire from where they were pinned down behind a tumbled down piece of the ceiling.

_Fek. Fek. Fek._

He tried to command his body to respond. It was too much fire for one trooper to handle alone. Hodges was trying to check on him, and protect them at the same time. He had no one watching his back.

_Behind you, Hodges!_

Quinn wanted to shout a warning. He wanted to pick up his decee and take aim at the simian sneaking up behind Hodges and aiming into his back. More than anything, he wanted to throw his body over his brother and protect him.

He could do none of these things.

He watched, completely helpless, as the first of the slugs tore into his brother. Hodges cried out in a strangled gasp of pain and was half spun around. It placed him in a perfect position for the rest of the shots to hit him in the gut. He went down and fell heavily at Quinn's feet in an unmoving heap.

# # #

The chrono chimed softly on the cockpit dashboard. Quinn sighed, and reached over to toggle off the alarm.

"Captain, wake up. It's been fifteen." The ARC didn't stir from his voice, so Quinn reached out and gently shook his shoulder. Catcher startled awake, jerking up so suddenly he ended up clutching his side and groaning.

He stared around, wide-eyed and temporarily confused. "Fek! What's wrong?!"

"Sorry to wake you up." Quinn pointed to the chrono.

Catcher shook his head. "No, you did good. Alright, status check. How long until we reach Ando?"

"15 hours. 59 minutes. Mark."

The ARC Captain nodded. "Right." He rubbed at his eyes. "Have Price bring up more caf."

# # #


	3. Chapter 3 Too Many Chances

**Ando**

**Chapter 3**

_Chance bent over the control board, studying the readouts. _"_I'm telling you, the compensators are off by 0.03 joules."_

_From his position in the copilot's seat, Odds snorted. "That's not just well within the safety parameters, that's barely measurable."_

"_It's a malfunction," Chance countered and leveled a patient look at his friend, his face illuminated by starlight ribbons and the twinkling lights of the pirate raider's_ _control board. "If we're to get this tub back to Ando, we can't take any avoidable risks."_

_Rolling his eyes with exasperated care, he spoke: "_Vod_, we're two crippled clones named 'Odds' and 'Chance' heading off to fight big bad simians and you're worried about an off-reading of 0.03 on the nav compensators?" He took his eyes off the warped starfield of hyperspace and met his brother's slightly annoyed gaze. "Do me the favor and take a chance. Live a little." _

_Chance pursed his lips and studied his brother, clearly torn between laughter and an eye-roll at the pun on his name. With a rueful shake of his head, he started to speak. But, suddenly, Odds couldn't hear his vod anymore. His entire body shook like spice pudding during a ground-tremor. He tried to suppress the tremor racing through his body, clutching at the steering yoke in his hand. Chance, seemingly not noticing his brother's distress, kept talking, his lips moving silently._

_ Odds grit his teeth, wondering with rising panic what was happening to him. Then the trembling stopped as suddenly as it had started. Startled, Odds turned, only to find his _vod_ leaning close towards him, so near he could feel the warm breath against his face. _

"_Beating the odds," Chance said slowly, "doesn't always work."_

_Odds opened his mouth to reply with one of his trademark wisecracks, but the shaking started up again, this time far more violently. He gasped as his limbs shook completely out of his control, and looked at his brother in desperation. Chance was watching him, somber and curiously detached, as Odds shook and trembled. What was worse than the unusually dispassionate expression on his vod's normally compassionate face was the dark, soggy patch spreading on his chest. _

_Odds cried out with mounting terror. He tried to move from his seat to find a medkit, but his body continued to shake and remained otherwise completely unresponsive to his mental commands._

"_Sometimes," Chance continued in same slow, somber tone, oblivious of the spreading blood stain, "you take too many chances."_

This isn't right, _Odds thought with a sense of growing surrealism, just as his head was jerked back by a particularly violent tremor. _This can't be. This isn't real….

Odds' eyes snapped open to see an arm reaching out to his shoulder again. Instinctively, the combat pilot was half on his feet, his only arm cocked to deliver a devastating punch, before Griff had the chance to jump back a safe distance.

"Whoa there, _vod_, take it easy," Griff said, his hands raised and his palms open to show that he meant no harm. "Don't slot your wake-up call."

Odds blinked, trying to shake off the last vestiges of his disturbing dream. He shook his head and straightened, rubbing his hand across his eyes in an effort to refocus. It had hurt to move that fast and he let his body fall back to the edge of the pilot's seat.

Odds' eyes slid irritably toward the bulky bandages under his tunic. "Did you have to fekkin' shake me so hard?"

"I was gentle," Griff said quietly. "I know you're wounded, vod. Barely touched you."

"Felt like…" Odds grimaced. "Doesn't matter." Still feeling completely out of sorts, he cracked his neck, trying to ease the stiffness and grumbled, "Don't you know better than to wake a sleeping clone?"

Griff grinned, utterly unrepentant. "'Course I do. But that doesn't make it any less fun. You know you mutter in your sleep? How do the ladies tolerate such an annoying habit?"

Odds sighed and wondered if he could get away with chucking Griff out of an airlock. "Because I'm such a wonderful lover. When I'm with a woman, we don't do much sleeping. Or talking, unless you count heavy breathing."

Griff guffawed and Odds used the moment to get his bearings. He was in the pirate raider's cockpit, just like in his dream, but this time, he wasn't heading towards Darkknell, but away from it.

Towards Ando. Towards home.

Odds had been looking forward to returning to the planet almost as soon as they'd left orbit. Returning to Ando and all the delightful benefits of the ladies had been the subject of his last talk with Chance, right before he'd been slotted by the Kazzies. Steering sharply away from _that _particular memory, Odds eased himself carefully back into the pilot's seat, glancing away from the annoyingly cheerful Griff.

"You know," he said, deliberately mournful, "that was a total waste of a prime opportunity. Do you have _any _concept of how wonderful it is to be woken up by a beautiful woman, a little at a time? And what do I get?" he asked plaintively, raising his eyes towards the cockpit's ceiling. "A _di'kut _with a face like a barve."

Griff laughed again, stroking his jaw, and then Odds' face. "Same face, handsome." The pilot smacked his hand away irritably.

Griff shrugged. Nothing, it seemed, could offend the jovial weapons expert. He shrugged. "Though, if you want, I could wrangle up some brothers that swing that way."

Odds shook his head and studied the readouts of his control panel with a practiced and experienced eye. Then glanced back over his shoulder at Griff. "You going to sit, or stand around there gawking all day?"

Griff moved slowly and gingerly settled himself at the co-pilot's console. He hissed as he tried to straighten out his injured leg in a seated position. "Ah, no," he said, pushing himself back up again with a groan, "if it's all the same to you. I'll stand and watch over things from right here. Are there any rules that say you have to sit?"

"No. Suppose not." He turned his attention back to the systems. The pirate raider wasn't what he'd flown in the GAR, but he'd had more than enough time to familiarize himself with the raider before leaving Ando. Chance had insisted they carefully go through every system-

_No, don't think about that._

_Think about something else. Anything about Chance._

"You're an ungrateful _di'kut_, Griff, you know that? I did save your _shebs _after all. Seems to me the least you could do is organize a pretty wake-up."

Griff raised an eyebrow. "You think you're pretty?"

"I'm devastatingly handsome," Odds assured him, leaning forward slightly to get a better look at the controls. "Best of the batch." He turned without thinking to point out a faulty vector reading to Chance… only to be faced with an empty chair.

Chance was dead.

His face convulsed with the memory. His brother had bled out because Odds had been too slow in closing a single, _shabla_ hatch. Some of his thoughts must have been visible on his face, because Griff's smile disappeared with the rapidity of a drop of water on Tatooine.

Odds was glad Griff didn't ask if he was 'ok', but the awkwardness that threatened to engulf them both was as encompassing as a clanker ambush in a dead-end gorge. Griff shifted slightly then opened his mouth, no doubt to say something along the lines of condolences.

Certain that he _could not _handle that conversation just now, Odds interrupted before the other trooper could even get out so much as a syllable. "So, why did you interrupt my fitful," he cast a quick glance at the chrono and couldn't suppress another sigh, "three minute nap?"

Griff pointed at an insistently blinking red light in the midst of the communications console. "Travis needs you. _Again_. Seems the brass wants you back in the crash harness."

Odds cast the comm light an annoyed look, unable to contain his rising surliness. Travis had been the one to insist they commandeer extra ships from the Kazzies, even though they were short on pilots. And, it was fekkin' Travis who'd been on the comm with Odds bombarding him non-stop with questions and problems almost since take-off.

"Couldn't this have waited till I had my full fifteen minutes?" Odds asked exasperatedly. With so few pilots, none of those flying the four ships could take significant breaks. Mako, the only medic still on his feet, had decreed that each of the pilots take fifteen minute naps at regular intervals to keep them at optimal brain-function; as much as possible given the circumstances.

No clone in his right mind ever argued with a medic and despite being relatively new to his role, Mako had earned their respect on Darkknell. Odds resented having his chance at sleep interrupted by another 'emergency call.'

_If this is about some needle on the gauge moving again, _Odds swore mentally, _lieutenant or no, I'm going to kill Travis._

In answer to his question, Griff shook his head and jerked his chin at the comm light. "Think it's the real deal, this time. I tried to help him before waking you but this is a little beyond my expertise in the armoury. It sounds like he's a blinking light away from breaking fingers."

"Guess the lieutenant is starting to feel the pressure," Odds said, half in defense of Travis, half in spiteful delight at the Marine's difficulties after his arrogant boast of 'of course, I can fly it'. Everybody always thought they were a fekkin' expert pilot after a little cross-training.

"We've all been under pressure, you most of all. That doesn't give Travis the right to snap at the navigation console." Griff rolled his eyes. "Though _he _insists _it _snapped at him first."

Odds blinked. That… sounded different. " I'd better comm him back. Some of the newer medical transports are rumored to have minimal-AI assist on the autopilots. They're programmed to contact their home fleet in case of shipwide distress. Let's hope Travis hasn't distressed the ship."

Griff raised his eyebrows, clearly wondering if Odds was being serious or not. "Hadn't thought of that," he murmured.

Odds ignored the other clone. Reaching over, he toggled open the comm channel to the medical ship Travis had commandeered for his doctor, getting an earful of Mando'a curses as soon as the channel stabilized in hyperspace.

"..._shabla_, kriffing, _di'kut_ thing! Don't tell me what to do!"

Exchanging a worried look with Griff, Odds cleared his throat. "Travis? Do you copy?"

"Odds!" The relief was evident in Travis' voice. "Finally. This…._thing,_" and the word conveyed a Hutt-load of loathing, "keeps squawking at me that I'm on the wrong vector. I'm in a _stolen _MedShip. Of course I'm _not _heading in the right direction; and why didn't the Kaz'harians take care of this?"

The channel was momentarily awash with electronic squeals as the MedShip's AI blared some warning message at Travis. Griff winced and covered his ears, wobbling to keep his balance on his injured leg. Odds leaned towards the comm system, a grin spreading over his face despite his fatigue. The lieutenant's angry rant and disagreement with the nav AI was delightful. He shot a look of amusement toward Chance. Seeing the empty seat again hit him with pain worse than the Kazzie slugs.

The only difference being you couldn't die from this so the pain never stopped.

Odds was silent in bereavement for only a moment, then grimly turned back to communications with the Marine. "Travis, you sound like all nine hells in a leaky bucket."

Travis snarled something unfavorable about a Weequay and Odds' gestation vat. "Good to see that being shot hasn't affected your mouth, Odds."

Odds' said in his best trooper voice, "I live to serve, sir."

"Stow the attitude," Travis snapped, "and tell me how to get this thing to do the same. Since when are _ships _supposed to talk back?"

Griff, leaning over the co-pilot's seat, stuffed his fist into his mouth to stifle his laughter, but Odds barely notice as he talked Travis through calming then shutting down the AI while maintaining the autopilot. Travis and his problems were actually a welcome distraction and Odds would have seized the opportunity with both hands, if he'd still had both hands.

He'd grumbled and complained, but Odds was truly grateful for the myriad of issues and problems the less-experienced pilots were having. Dealing with autopilot and AI issues with Travis and Dart or talking Catcher through some of the more advanced features on the luxury yacht kept him from thinking about Chance and the dark stain still visible on the cockpit's deck plates. Someone had hastily tried to scrub it clean, but the stain was still there. Odds felt like he could see it without even turning around.

Concentrating on piloting the pirate raider - and, by proxy co-piloting the three other ships - allowed Odds to focus on what he _could _do, instead of on what he'd failed to do.

_If I'd been faster….If I'd been paying more attention to my surroundings….If I'd still had _two _arms, would I have been able to save Chance?_

"It's stopped." Travis' relief was plainly audible and now that he wasn't frustrated, Odds could hear the fatigue in the other man's voice. They'd all been on-duty for several hours straight now - not counting their battle with the Kazzies - and it was still a good stretch until Ando. The others, though, had some sort of backup. Dart had Lieutenant Torch who may or may not have remembered if he'd even had pilot cross-training, but was apparently a steady presence and Catcher was making do with Quinn. Travis had pretty much his pick of the rest of the Ando Legion.

Odds had Griff, with an occasional visit from Det or Tek.

"Since your AI is behaving, you should grab a bite to eat," Odds suggested. "Maybe get your rack time in."

Travis sighed over the comm. "Sounds good. I'll take my fifteen on schedule, but our food options are limited over here."

"Don't tell me the Kazzies didn't pack any travel rations for the trip?" he asked disbelievingly.

Travis gave another rueful sigh. "Both the med ship and the freighter are fully stocked, but Kazzies aren't quite like humans. You'd need the stomach acid of a two-hundred kilo simian to digest some of this stuff. We've got a ton of meat we can't eat and some sort of red fruit that analysis says will make us puke our guts out. We're left with a little bit of other fruit we can eat. It's fine, I guess. We did discover some caf. Sort of. It's horrible, but it's compatible with our physiology."

Odds grimaced in sympathy, feeling his empty stomach clench. They'd been stashing away food on the pirate raider a good while before leaving Ando and had enough provisions to last the trip, but...

"Wish we could share, Travis." Odds didn't mention that he couldn't eat yet anyway. He wasn't allowed any food until he was medically cleared. Didn't matter. He wasn't hungry anyway. His whole stomach was nothing but a cold, twisted knot.

"You should get back to your own rack time," Travis told him. "Get Griff to watch the pretty blinking lights for you again."

Odds looked around the cockpit, only now realizing that Griff wasn't there anymore. The weapons expert must have gone back to double-check the baby clone vats with Tek and Gears. He was pulling double duty between the cockpit and helping with their "cargo." Griff was pulling triple duty considering he was also limping back to medbay to check if Det need help with Lance.

"I can handle the ship," Odds said, feeling a little defensive, though he knew Griff would be back in the cockpit with him as soon as he could. Mako had made it clear he was too wounded to leave alone for long.

"But can you deal with Catcher and Dart for the rest of this trip on your own?"

Odds shuddered at the thought. Two grumpy ARCs. Fek. How'd they end up with so many of them on Ando?

"Copy that," Odds grumbled and Travis laughed as he cut the connection.

No sooner had the former Galactic Marine signed off, then the console began to _bleep _at him insistently. Again.

Odds reached eagerly for the communications. The chatter and cursing from the exhausted ARCs would distract him from the empty seat next to him and the brother who was no longer there to fill it.

"Go ahead, Dart. What's blinking this time?"

# # #

_A/N: Ando is a multi-author fic written as a collaboration by longlivetheclones, Reulte, impoeia, and laloga. We have each taken on groups of characters and are writing their sections, and are helping each other extensively in the editing process. Odds belongs to impoeia._


	4. Chapter 4 Almost Home

**Ando**

**Chapter Four**

Odds scrubbed his eyes with his left hand, trying to banish some of the fatigue. The skin of his face felt lax and stubble rasped against his palm. He was in desperate need of a shave kit and some rack time. The lack of sleep could lead to fatal pilot errors.

At least his wounds had stopped hurting. That was one less stimuli to distract him, though at the same time, the pain had also kept sleep at bay.

_Just a bit more and I can drop dead, _he thought, trying to sound encouraging, at least in his own mind. It wasn't working.

"More caf, _vod_?" Det asked. The munitions expert had, at some point, relieved Griff of his duty as 'co-pilot'. The other trooper was likely back helping with the baby clones again. Odds hadn't actually registered exactly when the switch had happened, because he'd been busy with another minor emergency call from one of the other pilots. Or maybe he'd been asleep or possibly too dazed to notice, but now it seemed as though Det had always been there.

Odds shook his head. "Any more caf and I'll need to be treated for heart failure." He couldn't quite work up his usual grin, but his wisecrack appeared to reassure Det somewhat.

"You're sure?"

"Yes, I just need to land this bird and then I can drop dead." The joke sounded worse spoken aloud than it had in his own head and Det's fallen expression told him he'd struck a sour note. Their losses on Darkknell had been small compared to most battles Odds had been through as a combat pilot, but five dead _vode_ was devastating to the Ando Legion's way of thinking. It would be even worse if they lost Lance or any of the injured men, now that they were off Darkknell and heading towards safety and home. He had no idea who was badly wounded on the other ships, but the medical transport would have at least two bacta tanks and the PLY probably had one as well. There was a good chance…

Hadn't Chance made it to the medical transport? Odds frowned in confusion and denial. It was getting harder and harder to think clearly. He scrubbed his stub of a shoulder against his face and shook his head. No. Chance was dead.

Det shot him a concerned look which Odds ignored.

"Catcher to Odds," came the captain's voice over the raider's comm channel.

Odds tapped the receiver switch. A quick modification from Tek had put some of the controls on a palm switch, so he didn't need to lean or reach and that was good. He wasn't sure he had the strength anymore and he was getting cold. He turned up the heat in the cockpit and tried to repress a shiver.

"Copy," he said.

"Odds, my sensors are feeding me red alert lights from the landing struts." Captain Catcher sounded irritated at this latest development. "And I haven't done anything with them."

Odds blew out a long hissing breath and felt the fatigue returning full force. Next to him, Det tensed up but didn't interrupt the conversation.

It had been like this since leaving Darkknell. With Chance dead and paralyzed Razor back on Ando, he was the only experienced pilot the Ando Legion had. Catcher, Dart and Travis were cross-trained as pilots, and Catcher had a reasonable amount of experience, but they were flying unfamiliar ships without the countless hours of flight time that Odds had logged. And they had been doing so with few breaks in-between since their departure from Darkknell. As fatigue set in, uncertainties grew and he had been called upon more and more often to give advice on problems that - for a trained pilot - rated nothing more than a glance or minor adjustment.

"Try checking the hydraulic pump," he advised, trying hard not to sigh. "The PLY-5000 has sensitive systems. Sometimes it shows red when it _thinks _it has a blockage. It's like a woman who wants a bit of attention."

"Copy that," Catcher said, ignoring the humor or perhaps too exhausted to notice it. If the captain was as bone-tired as Odds was - and he had to be - he wasn't showing it.

There was a moment of silence when all Odds heard over the comm was the tapping of keys and quiet murmuring.

"Lights are green across the board. Thanks, Odds."

"No problem, Captain," Odds said, striving for an easy tone. It wasn't the captain's fault that he wasn't a pilot or Chance. Or better yet, both.

"We're about to come out of hyperspace and into the Ando system," he told Catcher. "Remember to stay in my shadow when we reach the planet."

If the three other ships stayed behind the pirate raider and he came in at a wedged angle as they re-entered real space, the others would be at least partially protected from the worst of the hyperspace turbulences; a relief for the less experienced pilots. The autopilots could compensate for the remainder of the turbulence, though Odds was sure one or two would red-light and had already warned the others not to worry; the alerts would cease once the inertial dampers had compensated for the last of the turbulences and the central nav gyro was rebalanced.

He wasn't sure they'd all fit on Fisherman's Field though, so he might land the others there and return the raider to where they'd originally landed. Perhaps he'd land them all where they'd begun; no telling what a civilian would do on the open landing field. He'd seen clones accidently killed during routine landings and didn't want one of the citizens of Ando crushed underneath the landing ships, or burned by the ion drive.

Again, he rubbed his face against his upper arm. They were all too tired; there was too much room for error. He would land Travis first; he had the most men with him. Catcher and Dart each had about a ten man crew while he and Chance had six troopers aboard.

No. He bit his lip and reminded himself again. Chance was dead. Why couldn't he keep that straight?

"Copy that," Catcher said evenly, then added in a slightly snappish voice, "Just like I copied the other eleven times you told me."

Odds clenched his teeth, chagrined, aware he'd just stepped on Catcher's toes. The captain was still a little touchy about his newly-found command position after Captain Rex had abandoned the Legion. While no one blamed him for wanting to return to the 501st and active duty, he had left a hole in the Legion and that was putting all of the other officers out of sorts. Especially Travis. Although Travis' particular brand of snappishness might have less to do with Rex, fatigue or a temperamental navigation console and more to do with the fact that he'd actually _drugged_ Karyn before leaving and now there was one highly irate doctor waiting for him back on Ando.

"Right, switching to shared channel," Odds said, falling back to the protocol that had been flash-trained into him as he found himself floundering for a way to bridge this momentary awkwardness.

He flipped another switch, opening the channel to Dart and Travis, respectively piloting the cargo freighter and the medical transport. "Coming into the solar system, gentlemen. We're almost home."

_Except for Chance._

"Approaching target coordinates. Coming out of hyperspace will feel like hitting a bloated Hutt," Odds spoke into the comlink. "But that's just the ship reacting and adjusting to the gravity of the solar system after hyperspace. Travis, let Mako know so all the wounded are secure."

"Copy, Odds; they've been notified. Who's in the cockpit with you?"

Odds frowned. Why would Travis want to know that? But Odds didn't want to think too hard about it. He'd save his strength to make sure the ships landed safely. "Det is in the co-pilot's seat," he replied.

"Det, some orders from Mako. He says fluctuating G-forces from reentry might cause Odds to pass out for a few seconds to a couple of minutes, given his injuries. If he's out for more than 90 seconds, or his pulse drops lower than 35, then use 1cc of adren-L, then half a cc again if he's not conscious after another four minutes. You'll find them in Lance's medical kit."

Odds snorted disdainfully, but said nothing as Det replied to the medic's orders. For all that he was a pilot and had crossed the wall more times than he could count, he felt like passing out just sitting there.

# # #

As the most experienced and only actual pilot in their group, Odds had been put in charge of this last leg of the operation. Actually, he'd been in charge for the entire thing; from coaching Dart in the freighter to dropping four ships simultaneously out of hyper. He had passed out upon hitting the wall, but regained consciousness even before Det could check his pulse.

"Inertial dampers showing green?"

He got affirmatives from all three clones.

"Forward shields at maximum power?"

Again, an answering chorus from the two ARCs and the Galactic Marine. Odds closed his eyes - just for a moment - but roused when Det touched his hand. Det held up the hypo filled with adren-L, a questioning look on his face.

As Odds shook his head, he noticed another communication channel, an external broadband, blinking for attention on the console. For a moment he stared, then reached - _shab, _that hurt - and toggled the switch.

"Unknown ships, please identify."

Odds could only blink stupidly as his mouth dropped open, but Det leaned back in the co-pilot's seat with a soft chuckle. Over the comm, he could hear Travis' whoop of glee and Dart's tentative chuckle. Captain Catcher was also laughing, in relief more than humor and in that laugh the captain's exhaustion was plain for anyone to hear. Odds closed his mouth and swallowed, then spoke, his eyes fixed on the rapidly approaching planet; white and blue against the blackness of space.

"Razor, is that you?"

"Affirmative, Odds. First, I detect four ships. Are you being pursued?" Razor's voice was tense in his worry and Catcher took over the conversation.

"That's a negative, Razor. We've brought back three additional ships."

"Four ships? Who's piloting?" There was amazed disbelief in Razor's voice.

"Dart, Odds, Travis and me."

"What about-"

Odds cut him off before he could ask. "Chance didn't make it."

There was a shocked pause. "Understood." The former pilot was silent for another moment and thankfully didn't try to offer any words of condolence. A beat later, Razor resumed ops talk and Odds' was extremely grateful.

"We've already made arrangements to handle the wounded. When you come into orbit, I'll open up a separate feed for someone to recite the wounded for triage. What kind of ships can we expect?"

Travis took over the comm. "Odds is piloting the raider. I'm in a high-end medical frigate, similar to what we use in the Republic, except modified to Kazzie specs, Dart's handling a YT freighter and Catcher has the jewel of the new Ando fleet."

Razor whistled, the excitement and admiration of a pilot at getting new ships clear in his voice. "You're going to have to come up with something pretty impressive to beat having a medship now on Ando."

Travis chuckled. "Oh, yeah."

Odds sighed, ignoring the banter, and relaxed back into the pilot's seat, with his eyes closed. There was someone else and everyone's survival did not rest on his wounded shoulders anymore. He interrupted the excited talk between Razor and Travis. "Razor, which configuration are you most familiar with? I'll take the other two."

"You must be exhausted, _vod_." Razor's voice was uncommonly gentle. "I'll take Travis and Dart."

"We're all exhausted, Razor, but I've been listening, paying attention, guiding them since we left Darkknell. They're used to my instructions. I'll bring them into planetary atmosphere, then you can link up and guide Travis."

"Odds," the worry was evident in the other pilot's tone, "I've done some quick calculations and if we try to land all four of you at once, you'll be scraping paint off each other's hulls."

"I'm aware of that," Odds said, "we'll land Travis first, giving the medship top priority, and the rest of us will follow. I'm planning on landing further out, setting the raider back in her original nest."

Catcher interjected at that point. "Travis lands first." His tone of command was clear and concise. " Odds, I want you down on the ground next. Razor, there are wounded aboard his ship, including Odds himself and thirty baby clones."

Odds tried to object, but Razor interrupted first. "Thirty baby _whats_!"

Even Odds chuckled at his fellow pilot's flabbergasted tone. He glanced over at Chance, to see his brother's reaction, but it was Det sitting in the co-pilot's seat. The smile fell away and Odds felt nothing, except cold and empty.

**# # #**


	5. Chapter 5 Love and War

** Love and War**

"Karyn!"

It was Travis. He was calling out to her. It was the same dream. The same one she'd had every night since he'd left her. Drugged her and decided that his loyalty to _Rex_ was more important than anything they had together as a couple. She hoped _Rex _would be willing to keep him warm at night now. Her dream transformed wildly and she was suddenly standing in front of Travis, naked, hitting him for all she was worth, overwhelmed by passion and rage-

"Karyn!"

She awoke with a start.

The voice shouting out to her was not that of her lover. She rolled out of bed, already fully dressed except for her coat and boots.

"I'm awake, Tag," she called back to the trooper. "Tell me what's happening." She shouted downstairs, pausing on the risers to swiftly pull on her heavy boots.

"Razor commed in. Ships are inbound."

For one, long eternity Karyn's mouth was open with no sound emerging. She felt a moment of dizziness, like during the war. She took a deep steady breath and took a moment to mentally compose herself, like she did when she took charge of her women warriors. "Understood, Tag."

This was no time to fall apart. She had held Ando together during the war, when the rest of the planet went to ruin. She could handle the mess of her personal life.

Karyn moved quickly downstairs to the small side room she had prepared for Tag. He reclined on the biobed, wearing a headpiece comm link.

"Is it them?" There had been multiple attacks by pirates on the town in the years since the war, although the town had been left alone in the two months the clones had been with them. If it was not the return of the men, she would need to mobilize the warriors and go through her own preparations. She would need to change into the heavier protective gear she wore for fighting and gather up her rifles out of the storage locker in the room behind the kitchen. For a doctor, she owned a great many guns. Too many.

"Razor's checking," the former heavy infantry soldier turned his face to hers about to say something else but Razor must have been speaking because Tag suddenly wasn't paying any attention to her. He had his head cocked to one side slightly the way all troopers seemed to do when they were processing information. She'd often wondered if this was a habit they'd picked up in training, a trait they picked up from growing up together, or some genetic quirk from the original donor. And, she knew she spent much too much time thinking about everything having to do with Travis.

Nikka, Tag's runner for this shift, was pulling on her own boots. The youngling was reliable and eager to help. She would let the other runners know, they would spread the news, and soon volunteers would be collecting at Fisherman's Hall, bringing soup, coming to the clinic to help the wounded and gathering at the emergency building on the corner of Fisherman's Field to prepare for a worst-case scenario.

"Copy that," Tag looked up at Karyn, his eyes catching her eyes with a smile. "We have verified the identity of the four ships. We now have a _fleet _of ships. An Andoan Fleet," his voice swelled with pride, before dropping to a more serious tone. "The first ship to land will be a medship. The ship holds a capacity of forty, plus crew. They're downloading the list of injured to Sink and Sabre to begin preliminary medical assessment." He looked squarely at the doctor. "There are high numbers of wounded coming back. Five dead." Tag reported the information without inflection or flinching.

Karyn felt her heart stop. She had known, of course, that all of this was a possibility. She had been through war before, and seen the men of Ando wiped out, including her own beloved husband and sons. So, why did this feel _different_? How had _these_ men managed to make such an impact in such a short time?

Karyn frowned, her grip on the medical bag tightening. She couldn't fall apart.

She had to do what she did during the war, and keep going. One minute at a time.

One second at a time. Don't think. Keep moving forward.

She hoped Mako was capable of assisting during a surgery. Lance was still in the process of training the junior medic. Why hadn't Lance been mentioned during the report? Why wasn't he, rather than Mako, doing triage? Lance had told her medics were often amongst the first casualties during a battle, since they were always out in the line of fire treating wounded. Her heart clenched thinking _he_ might be among the casualties.

Don't think. Keep moving forward.

She took a deep breath and looked around the room. They'd been busy also.

_Rosetta came down from her ranch along with Razor's host, Killtric, to help move the paralyzed men to their posts. __Much to the amusement and embarrassment of the four men, they had more help than they needed, with women from the town all coming out and wanting to lend a hand. I__t had taken the combined efforts of Karyn, Rosetta, and Killtric to finally chased them off as most were getting in the way more than actually assisting. Karyn suspected they all were just desperately lonely for sight of a clone face, or the sound of the familiar lilting accent again. She had seen their reactions every time the troopers spoke and the way the women flirted with them. The four troopers hadn't seemed bothered by the sudden attention, although they did flush with embarrassment and pleasure at the obvious flirting. _

_Razor, with his scavenged transmission equipment, and Killtric were in a side room of Fisherman's Hall. Sink and Auset were in the attic of the hall overlooking Fisherman's Field where they hoped to direct the returning pirate raider to land. Saber, with Shayla and her apprentice, Miri, was across the field while Tag had moved into the clinic with her. _

_Just yesterday, a fleet of townswomen had insisted on cleaning Karyn's already immaculate clinic. She tolerated their presence only because she knew they were as overwrought as she was, although she had to supervise them carefully to make sure no equipment was broken in their eagerness to 'help.' _

_Cots were brought out of storage where they'd been packed away after the war. Killtric, Ewan and Rosetta helped lay them out in even rows. The three older survivors of the war were silent as they worked, their mouths grim and eyes dark with memories. __Equipment was set out in the same manner she had done during the war, with everything centralized and easy to reach during emergency triage. S__he had gone to the storeroom to gather the last of the bacta-patches but found only empty boxes, one stuffed with credits. She had muttered an oath and stood there surrounded by the empty boxes, knowing she held Travis' earnings from the docks. She was overwhelmed with conflicting emotions and tucked the credits carefully back in the box because it was another link to a man she might never see again._

_Karyn had run the sterilizer until every piece of medical equipment she had was ready for surgery. She'd shown several of the medical volunteers how to run it, in case she ran out of sterile equipment before she ran out of patients. She lost herself in memories for a moment, remembering the war. The blood. The times when she could not move fast enough and she couldn't save the men. They died. And died. And, kept dying. _

"_Karyn?" Tag was speaking to her, looking at her with concern._

_She took a deep breath, drawing herself back. "Not sure I'm ready for this, Tag." She took another sip of her caf, burying her face for a moment in her mug. It had been years since she'd had real caf, but drinking the odd tangy brew was still comforting somehow. _

_"I see this as hopeful, Karyn," Tag said thoughtfully, seated in her office chair as the 'bed was maneuvered into the side room prepared for him. "If every cot is occupied it means those brothers came home alive."_

_Karyn saw Saber nod thoughtfully, agreeing with Tag. She looked at the room again, and still saw only memories of the war on Ando. _

_"What are the chances," she whispered to Tag late in the evening after Nikka had fallen asleep on one of the cots, after the others had gone home or to their own posts to wait. "What are the chances they'll all come home?" Even as she said it, she knew she was being unrealistic. She had lived through war, as a doctor, a wife, a mother and a town leader, and had seen the horrific injuries and mutilations. But, as a woman in love, she wanted them all to come home. If she allowed herself to believe they could die, then it meant she was facing the possibility Travis was not coming back._

_Tag looked at her point-blank. "There's no telling. In this case there are too many unknowns to even make a guess."_

_Karyn was quiet for a long while then she spoke again. She knew about the worst battles on her planet, but very little about the war the clones were fighting in. Travis almost never spoke of it, few of the clones seemed willing to speak about it, at all, to the women of Ando. "This war you are in... how bad do these battles get?" _

_Tag turned his face away from hers, seeming very far away for a moment, then laughed bitterly. It was a surprising sound coming from the usually gentle trooper. It told her there was much she still did not know about these soldiers, a much darker side they kept contained, locked carefully inside. "Is that something you really want to know?" _

_She took a deep breath and nodded. _

_Tag sighed and launched into it. "The second Battle of Ryloth ; 100 percent fatalities of ground infantry and all associated air support." He waited her response then continued as she nodded thoughtfully. _

_"The Battle of Teth had a 99 percent fatality rate. Captain Rex was one of only six survivors. His entire company was wiped out," Tag was quiet for a moment then spoke again. "I supposed that's what makes him such a good captain now. He's lost so many brothers he'll do anything to not lose more."_

_Karyn frowned. "Then why did he take all the troopers knowing they're wounded and he's likely to lose some?"_

_Tag paused, as if weighing what he was allowed to tell her. She knew she was not one of the 'vode.' But, after a moment he continued speaking. "All I know are rumors, but word is that the men he's gone to rescue are his men - the five oh first legion." He paused again, and then grinned. The movement made Karyn's heart clench painfully because it reminded her so much of Travis. The hair was completely different, but they all had that heart-stopping smile. "And he didn't take the wounded troopers, they all stowed away."_

_Karyn laughed slightly. "So Travis pulls the same sort of moves on Rex that he does to me? I suppose that's reassuring, to some extent. Although, I'm not sure I like the fact that Travis is so naturally talented at subterfuge."_

_Tag coughed and had the decency to blush. "I won't comment on the Lieutenant's natural talents. He looked into her face, catching her eyes and smiled; one side of his lips higher in a wryly twisted grin as he nodded his head towards his gear bag. "You know we found out full kits, right? I have a pair of binders which might prove useful."_

_Karyn nodded in agreement. "Oh, those could come in very handy." _

_Tag snorted with laughter._

_Karyn pressed her face into her hand as she shook her head. "Tag!" She blushed again. "Not for the reasons you think!"_

_The trooper kept laughing, unable to contain himself now. "From those who have stayed in the clinic overnight, it is apparently hard to get any rest. Word is Captain Rex could often be heard grumbling about it under his breath during training."_

_Karyn stuck her face in her hands, laughing so hard her sides hurt. She wasn't sure whether to be mortified or flattered by the good-natured teasing. The laughter was a much needed relief after all their talk of war. _

_"Go to bed, Karyn," Tag said, his charming smile still on his face. _

_Karyn nodded, smiling as well, and made her way upstairs. Surprisingly, she slept. But, her dreams were fitful and all night long, she dreamt of Travis._

_# # #_

"The medship has what now?" Tag looked again at Karyn, making sure she heard his words. "Four bacta tanks?"

Karyn blinked in surprise. There wasn't a bacta tank anywhere on Ando, and now they would have _four_?

Tag listened intently then nodded. "It's confirmed, Karyn. Four on this medical ship they'll be landing in Fisherman's Field, and there's another on a second craft coming in." He locked eyes with her again. "All the bacta tanks are currently occupied. They are requesting you be there to meet the ships when they land."

_Five bacta tanks?_

Then Tag turned his face to young Nikka, giving her instructions.

Karyn was half-way to Fisherman's Field before she came to the heart-stopping realization she hadn't even asked about Travis.

# # #


	6. Chapter 6 Food for Thought

_Author's Note: "Ando" is bringing in more citizens to round out the town of Ando. This week, we meet one of those citizens._

**Ando**

**Chapter 6**

Sera stared down at the inventory on her datapad, doing some quick mental calculations, but no matter how she turned and twisted the numbers, the result stayed the same.

She was running low on everything; most seriously on pom flour, honey and sugar. She glanced at the public supplies of Ando under her care. Everyone was running low, particularly after the potluck two months before.

Sera hadn't gone to the potluck. The thought of all those men in one place had terrified her so much she'd spent the evening hiding out in her bakery. Still, she had tried to be a good citizen of Ando and sent an extra large batch of nanana twists to be enjoyed by the others. It had basically wiped out her allotted supplies for the month, but she'd wanted to help, even if she was too cowardly to make an appearance.

She sighed and rubbed at her face, returning her attention to inventory.

Tapping the stylus contemplatively against her bottom lip, Sera looked up from her 'pad to sweep the nearly empty storage room with a critical eye. She was going to have to take this up with Karyn as soon as possible. The women of Ando had found a lot of substitutions for basic ingredients that had become hard to get in the post-war years. With the coming of spring and the thaw, a lot of those substitutes were going to finally be available. The Whisperpines were already blossoming and she planned to go out honey-hunting in the marshy meadows. But, there were no substitutes to be had, as of yet, for pom flour or fine sugar.

"Alright," she murmured to herself, trying to come up with some alternatives she could present to Karyn. Since the revival of regular practice for the Women Warriors, Sera had been more or less sneaking about Ando Town, trying to remain invisible while at the same time making herself indispensable. She was desperate not to be called upon to practice. If she came up with some good plans to forestall the upcoming shortage, she might be able to buy herself another grace period. The Women Warriors were volunteers, but Sera felt so guilty at not participating. There was no reason for her not to participate other than that...she _couldn't. _

"Sea kelp, maybe," she muttered. If they could step up the process of extracting sweetener from sea kelp, then they could use _that _exclusively for cooking and reserve the fine sugar for the table. Pom flour could be cut with a small amount of dried white algae. Maybe then….

Footsteps thundered overhead and Sera jumped back in terror. It was late at night; no one should be out there.

She froze in panic, then uttered a choked-off, breathless scream as the doors to the storage room were thrown open_._

"Sera!" Auset thundered down the stairs, and studied her friend for a long moment. "Figures I'd find you doing inventory in the middle of the night." She shook her head again. "You need to get a life. Or a man."

Sera was about to open her mouth to protest this familiar argument between them, but Auset already cut her off and was speaking again. The words coming out in a rush. " Sera, they've returned! They'll be landing in four hours. It's time to go to work !"

"They?" Sera was still trying to get her blood pressure back to normal and catch up with the rapid fire flow of words. Auset was a dear friend, but keeping up with her c ould be exhausting. "They… who?"

"The men!" Auset answered, exasperated at her incomprehension, though she did let go of Sera's arm and spoke more quietly. "Are we expecting anyone else?"

Sera began to shake her head, then tried to shrug and answer all at the same time; the end-result being more of a spastic twitch. The hammering of her heart increased to a wild tempo at the news. The men were back.

Fear shuddered through her. Unlike the rest of the women, Sera's life for the past two months had revolved around _avoiding _the clones who had invaded town. She'd probably been the only one to breathe a sigh of relief when they'd left last week. She knew it was petty of her, but she just couldn't help it. The men _terrified _her to the point where it had been a struggle to open her bakery every day and endure their presence as customers. Looking at them opened all of the old wounds; called forth all of the bad memories. And now they were back.

"Now let's move," Auset urged, grabbing Sera's arm once more to underline the urgency of her words. "Karyn is mobilizing the cooking squad and that means _you._"

Sera was dragged along and realized she was going to be drafted into this plan whether she wanted to or not though it wasn't unexpected. "Wh-what does Karyn want me to do?" she finally managed to get out, as they left behind the cool darkness of the storage room and entered the storefront. Auset had left the front door open and the warmth of the ovens was now being mediated by the crisp Ando night.

"What else? You need to get baking!" She scowled at the near empty displays. "No one has been purchasing anything this week, have they?"

Sera shrugged. "It's been pretty slow. I haven't minded. Been catching up on my reading."

"Listen to you!" Auset grabbed Sera's apron from behind the counter. "Let's get to work. According to Razor, the boys are landing in four hours. Karyn wants high-calorie food for them. She suspects they've eaten very little. They subsist on 'rations,' but Sink says there's little time to do much but fight. And you know how those boys can eat."

Sera pushed back some errant red curls, hiding her dismay. There was no denying that the soldiers had helped to improve the town, but they also consumed a great deal more food than the women. And she suspected - no, she _knew_ - that no one had told them how acute the shortages were. As a member of the rationing board, she was alarmed at the state of their food stores.

Then the rest of Auset's statement hit home. _Four hours! _Sera tripped over a broom in surprise, but Auset braced her from falling.

"Auset," Sera protested, shaking her head, "that's not enough time to get anything started. Not on the scale you're talking about."

"But you must have something already prepared, right?"

Sera hesitated, staring at the near-empty display cases, going through a mental inventory. She tried to calculate what would have the most nutritional value and meet the needs Karyn described, but still be doable with their limited supplies. She could grind some nuts and dried white algae to mix with the pom flour. It would have a high nutritional value and yet still be sweet and tempting.

Auset pushed Sera through the doorway, keeping up a steady pressure on her back as she hurried the other woman into the bakery kitchen.

Sera didn't resist. No one resisted Auset when she really wanted something, not even Karyn. That was, after all, how Auset had come to sponsor Sink.

The familiar smell of pom flour, sugar, wood and spice helped Sera regain some of her equilibrium. In the confines of her bakery kitchen, she felt more reassured and finally managed to brace herself against Auset's insistency.

Digging in her heels, Sera brought their forward movement to a halt and turned to face Auset. "Okay, alright," she said, as her friend nearly trod on her toes. "Karyn needs nutrient-laden treats for the clones' return?" she asked, to be sure she'd gotten the gist of the order.

"Something like that." Auset waved a vague hand, eying the neat kitchen. She elaborated a bit further, "Sink got a comm from Razor who got a call from Captain Catcher. They have just entered the system and will land their first two ships about two hours before dawn, the other two about three or four hours after."

Sera paused in the act of transferring the tiny sweetened crunches from a tray into a plasticlear container. "Wait. _Ships_? As in plural?" Sera's breath suddenly caught in sympathy for Karyn. "And _Catcher _called? Not Captain Rex or …" Sera stared at her friend, wide-eyed, a sudden dread creeping up in her. "Does that mean...I mean, is Travis….Did Rex and Travis not… Are they...?" She couldn't even say the words aloud. She knew soldiers died in battle. She'd seen it first hand here on Ando, as war took almost every man on the planet. And though the sight of the clones might send her running in the other direction in terror, that didn't mean she wished them any harm. No one deserved the end so many of the men on Ando had suffered. And Auset and Karyn had been so full of praise for Captain Rex and Lieutenant Travis.

It was suddenly hard to breathe.

Auset's eyes were wide and troubled. "Sink wouldn't say. Karyn is going over a list of wounded as we speak." Her voice dropped. "Apparently, there are a lot of wounded. They are landing on the first ship." She bit her lip. "But Sink… he got this funny look on his face and went all quiet." She shook her head. "I just don't know. I don't think Karyn knows either, but she's gone into doctor mode." Auset sighed heavily and her eyes were distant with troubled memories. "It was just like during the war, when Rosetta pulled her out of surgery to tell her they'd brought back her sons' bodies and she just nodded and went back to operating."

Sera nodded, remembering that Karyn hadn't fallen to pieces until days later; after the patients she'd operated on were no longer in danger of dying and she had made everyone remaining realize the cost of their 'little fishing dispute'.

To get her mind off of everything that had happened _then_, Sera stared down at the pom flour and concentrated on the now. Pom flour; there was so little of it.

She tried to picture Lieutenant Travis. She'd seen him around town with Karyn, but had never actually spoken to him. She couldn't say she knew him at all. She couldn't say she knew any of the clones.

As shy as a Baldavian pocket hare and twice as skittish as one of Ian and Ka'te's quagas, Sera had gone out of her way to avoid the sudden influx of men on her planet as much as she could. But Karyn had been her friend for years, one of the few she still had, and not even a blind man would have been able to miss the fact that their town's doctor and leader was in love with the lieutenant. If something happened to Travis on this mission, Karyn would be devastated. It had taken years for the haunted look to fade somewhat from the doctor's eyes. The spark had only recently come back and that was with the arrival of the brash young lieutenant. Karyn had finally managed to find happiness again.

Unlike some people, Sera thought in a sudden influx of depression. Some people still prefer to hide under their covers.

"Is this everything you have?" Auset, who'd come to stand just behind Sera, peered over the shorter woman's shoulder and into the plasticlear containers. "I'm here to help. Tell me what you need."

Sera, pulled out of her dark thoughts, startled at her friend's close proximity. "There's more in the conservator. Pull everything out and stack it over there." She pointed at a wide workstation. "We'll need to work quickly. Four hours isn't much time."

Auset pulled open the door and stared inside, a frown on her beautiful face. "There isn't much in here," she said as she started taking out precious bakery ingredients.

"It's been a slow week," Sera mumbled, mostly to herself, "like I said."

With the newcomers gone, the town had sunk into depression, just like five years ago. And just like five years ago, the bakery had gone into decline with the town. Sweets were for happy times and celebrations. It was difficult to develop a craving for sweets when you were mourning husbands, lovers, brothers, sisters, fathers and children.

The arrival of the clones - and their payment from their new jobs - had been the first real uplift the bakery had seen since the start of the war. But that situation was almost as difficult for Sera as staring at an empty bakery all day long. She dreaded having men in her shop day after day. She'd even toyed with the idea of talking to Karyn about closing the bakery, but that thought terrified her as much as the men did. The bakery had been in her family since the founding of Ando. She just couldn't turn her back on that. And though the shortages would be a perfect excuse for her to hide away, losing the bakery would also mean she could no longer justify not participating in practice with the other Warriors. Either way, she'd be backed into a corner, thanks to the arrival of the clones.

She pushed back her thoughts and turned to Auset. "I'm short on eggs. Can you see if Rosetta can provide some? If she has some cream to spare, that would be incredibly helpful as well."

Over the next four hours, Sera and Auset managed to put together eight boxes of sweet, nutrient-packed treats, though it completely cleaned out her _two_ conservators.

"Do we really need all this?" Sera asked hesitantly. Staring at her cleaned out conservators, she realized she might actually end up having to go Warriors' training after all. In four hours, she and Auset had used up the supplies Sera had been planning to use for the next _three weeks. _Had she been able to come up with some good swears - she _did _know a few, but none she cared to use or even think about - she'd be using them right now. Karyn, the clones, the women of Ando; there were times when Sera wondered if she was the only one who cared about the rationing of food supplies that were still in place.

She breathed out, pushing past her annoyance. That wasn't fair and she knew it. Karyn never asked her to break with the rationing unless it was an emergency and wounded men _definitely _counted as an emergency. It wasn't as if they couldn't survive on the bounty of the ocean alone, but the flour and sugar made the fish and sea vegetables so much more palatable and varied their diet.

She picked up several of the containers, dipping her head around the stack so that she could see well enough to follow Auset towards her parked speeder.

"You better hold those or they'll tip over during the drive," Auset said, holding open the door of the speeder. "Karyn emphasized food is a top priority for the clones with their high metabolisms. El'la is bringing sandwiches and soup. But, Karyn emphasized the food you are bringing is the most important. She called twice to check on our progress. She said it might be the only food tempting enough for the wounded."

Sera's fingers tightened around the last container and her breathing went shallow. She immediately flashed back to the war and the times she spent volunteering at the hospital. The newly built Ando Medical had disappeared overnight in one of the initial waves of bombings. An enormous structure, built directly on the waterfront, the building had burned and collapsed into the sea. Sera had narrowly escaped the burning building, pulling out patients as the structure collapsed. Others- people she knew and liked- hadn't escaped the fire.

"Sera," Auset touched concerned fingers to her friend's face, "don't go away now, alright?"

"I can do this," she assured Auset, "I-I won't let anyone down." Inside all she felt was the knot of fear inside her at everything the landing of the ships represented. She was not ready for the men to return.

Sera knew she'd never be ready.

# # #

_Author's Note: Since we have an entire story devoted to Ando, we are getting much richer details and back stories. We are learning a great deal more about the war and the effects it had on the town and the people who lived through it. A planetary apocalypse is not going to leave the survivors without their share of scars. Sera is the brain child of impoeia and her story will be interwoven with the others as she struggles to deal with her past and her fear of men._


	7. Chapter 7 Closing In

**Ando**

**Chapter 7**

The swirling blue-white mass of Ando lay directly below the four ships as they rapidly descended from space into the layers of atmosphere.

Odds calmly guided the other three pilots, talking them through readings and coordinates exactly as Chance would have done. "Entering planetary troposphere at my mark... _Mark._" The white light of the comm, signaling an open channel between all four ships, had by now burned itself into his retinas.

"Copy that," acknowledged Dart, Catcher and Travis, one after another.

The modified pirate raider gave a slight lurch, then began to shudder almost imperceptibly as the ship nosed its way into the lowest layer of planetary atmo; the layer of weather.

The transparisteel viewport flashed a warning white before the viewport's polarizer automatically darkened to spare the pilot's eyes from unfiltered radiation. Odds' sighed with relief. His eyes were tired enough, squinting against the sun and the glare off the sea and ice was an added strain he could not endure.

Odds did take a moment, though, to admire the sight. They'd come in on the day-side of the planet, so the sun was at their backs and the terminus between night and day was highlighted to the point of unreal clarity and starkness. Briefly, the fleet of ships was halved, caught exactly between darkness and light. Only now, only here, sitting in a cockpit, was it possible to observe night and dark so closely together, like brothers laying down side-by-side. After a week on Darkknell, there was something soothing about the sight of the sun, of being surrounded by light. They'd swing over the planet and land in pre-dawn darkness.

He didn't take long to admire the sight.

Past the day-side, clouds, thick and white, were gathering on the dark face of the planet, the seeming peacefulness threaded through with precipitation and wind. Odds studied the monitors and did a quick analysis of their flight path. He chewed on his bottom lip while he thought about how to discuss this latest development with the other three pilots. They were likely seeing the swirling mass of turbulence appear on their scopes, as well. "We're coming into a bit of _weather." _

"I see it on the brightband," Catcher acknowledged, "freezing rain and hail."

"Ah, yes. It's good to be home," Travis said.

"I could do without the _weather_," Dart grumbled. "Freezing rain is a mess for landing ships."

Odds rolled his eyes. He never did like working with ARCs. Whenever he had to transport them, they always had to make some sort of comment about his flying. A little extra training and the di'kuts thought they were experts on every shabla thing. He paused a beat, and once he was sure his temper was under control he answered. "Not to worry, Dart. I've taken ships through worse than this."

The ARC only grumbled under his breath in reply.

"Razor, I need an update on the local weather front." Odds could easily interpret the weather on his scopes, but figured a bit of positive news would be good for the other three. Dart seemed particularly stressed. Odds briefly wondered if there was more going on with the ARC than fatigue.

_Not my problem. I'm not the captain. Captain Rex abandoned us._

Razor's voice interrupted his thoughts and focused him back on task. "Storm already moved past us here in town. It's crisp and clear. Good weather for gliding those ships in. You four are lucky."

Dart snorted.

As a fellow pilot, though, Odds heard the wistfulness in Razor's voice. It was the same tone Chance used during their early days on Ando, when they were two pilots without a working ship, before the mad scramble to fix the pirate raider.

He turned to his substitute co-pilot and gestured to the nav-disdrometer. "Det, let me know if the storm moves closer or if the sidebar goes red." Odds turned a wary eye on his own control board while he listened to Catcher, Dart and Travis recite readings back at him. Razor was listening in as well and Odds was glad for the backup.

The ship pushed through atmo and real gravity began to assert itself. Odds' one hand started to shake again and he tightly clenched his muscles to still the action.

_Fek._

He blinked rapidly as his vision blurred slightly. This might not turn out to be one of his smoothest landings. He was used to flying LAATs, and while he normally didn't mind the challenge of piloting a different sort of ship, he was not in the best shape either physically or mentally. And, he didn't just have to safely land his ship, cargo and passengers, he was responsible for the lives of the rest of the Legion as well.

_No pressure, though._

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. He could hear Chance murmuring to himself. His _vod_ liked to recite the sensor readings out loud during takeoff and re-entry.

_I hear you, Chance. I can get through this._

"Kriff!" Dart filled up the channel with a colorful collection of curses in languages that demonstrated the ARC's broad range of experiences. Even through the hazy, clinging cloud of fatigue, Odds had to admit he was impressed. Dart ended his litany with a final exclamation, "Who picked this fekkin' ship?"

"Steady, Dart," Odds said, still trying to figure out why the ARC was so uncharacteristically tense.

"Tell that to the damn ship," Dart snapped back. "It's shaking itself apart."

Odds squeezed his eyes shut - hard and just for a second - in an effort to fend off an oncoming headache, but even that tiny movement seemed to cause all his injuries to ache anew. Razor had his back and smoothly stepped in and took over. "YTs have wonderful qualities, Dart," supplied the paralyzed pilot on Ando, "but automatic gravity readjustment isn't one of them. You may be experiencing added turbulence. As Odds says, stay steady. And, try adjusting the grav thruster manually."

There was a pause, followed by more colorful cursing. "Got it," Dart said finally. "Alright, it's stabilized."

"I'm getting a lot of atmospheric interference," Catcher said.

"Det, status update," Odds kept his attention focused on the controls, as well as the constant stream of readouts from the other three pilots.

"It looks like we're coming out of it. The front is headed north along the coastline and out to sea."

"That's what I wanted to hear," he nodded with satisfaction. "Remain on course. We can easily power through the residual winds."

"Good to know," Dart replied dryly.

The clouds were parting as the ships descended and, through the lightening transparisteel, Odds could see Andotown; the lights of the houses shining through the night like miniature stars. The open sea was calm with a brilliant orange reflecting back and the small fishing fleet was visible as tiny, illuminated dots in the distance.

Odds' eyes swept over the sensor readings then back over the terrain. On the journey home, they'd discussed the best landing sites for the four ships. The pirate raider had originally crashed outside of town in an area they now referred to simply as "The Meadow." The second landing site was Fisherman's Field.

Fisherman's Field was much closer to town, and made it easier to transfer the wounded, but brought in 'civilian complications.' Since Razor was directing them toward the field, Odds would have to trust in the judgement of the other pilot. As the landing sight came into view, he gave a short bark of a laugh. The civvies had managed to put down red and blue nav-lights to guide in the ships. It even looked like a proper landing field.

It was still going to be a tight fit, though, and he felt cold sweat trickling down his neck as they descended toward the site.

"Dart, you're off course by a vector of 0.5."

"Got it. Correcting now," the ARC said and Odds verified as the freighter's vector straightened.

"I received a warning light from my inertia dampers," Catcher said.

"Those are always over-sensitive on landing. Ignore it. You're going to have to glide the rest of the way in anyway. Keep your final burn to no more than three seconds, then switch immediately to your ion drive."

"Acknowledged."

Catcher sounded calm enough, but they both knew it was a tricky maneuver to attempt in an unfamiliar ship on a makeshift landing site.

Odds swallowed. Hopefully, they wouldn't have to scrape Catcher and the PLY off Fisherman's Field.

# # #


	8. Chapter 8 Crashing

**Ando**

**Chapter 8**

Dart swiped a trembling hand across his brow, feeling sweat run down his face. He could make it through this flight. Seventeen hours hours down. Seven more to go.

"You OK?" asked Torch.

Dart glanced over at the Marine Lieutenant. He took several slow deep breaths trying to reign in his temper.

He was fekkin' _fine_.

He was about to rip into the Lieutenant with his impressive vocabulary, acquired on a multitude of missions throughout the Inner and Outer Rim. But, as he opened his mouth to retort, he stopped himself. As he met Torch's scarred gaze, there was something in the genuine warmth of his brother's eye that made him hesitate. Torch was a likable vod. He'd proven himself time and again as they'd covered each other's backs as part of the commando team on Darkknell.

_They'd been pinned down with huge swaths of flamethrowers roaring over their heads and Torch had calmly looked up with the orange flames reflected in the lenses of his distinctive __Marine helmet. He folded his arms comfortably, waiting for the flames to pass. He looked almost bored with the whole affair. __"You like ale?" Torch asked. "We should go out for drinks... when we get back." __He still spoke slowly and precisely, obviously choosing his words with careful precision. It was the only obvious sign he still struggled with the aftereffects of the head injury that nearly took his life after the crash on Ando; an injury he'd sustained while saving the lives of other vode. The flames died away, and before Dart could respond, Torch was already back out in the thick of fighting._

He scrubbed at his face. Truth be told, Dart was _not_ fine.

He'd been slammed with a headache out of nowhere. His stomach was cramped up and roiling , and fatigue was threatening to suck him out of his seat. His vision kept blurring up and he was having difficulties seeing the monitors. The trembling in his hands was getting worse and affecting his coordination. But, he could handle it. He could fekkin' handle anything. He had the training to make it through any situation. He'd been mauled by a shabla' Nexu and he'd-

_And, what? I was fekkin' sent to Kamino. When they sent me to be reconditioned, the doctors didn't seem to care I was an ARC. They treated me like any one of these other clones. I'm supposed to be better. Jango Fett told us we always had to be the best or we were nothing._

The tremors spread to his legs.

It had been too long. He needed another stim and his supply was gone. He'd have to ask Torch.

_Ask him_, a voice whispered in his head.

"Do you have a stim, vod?" Dart tried to keep his voice light, like they were discussing cleaning their decees or the weather on Ando . He took his eyes off the controls for a moment, and looked over at Torch to gauge his reaction.

The scar that ran across the Marine's face tightened and his brow furrowed. He leaned in to examine Dart. His voice turned monotone, the way all clones did when they were recalling information learned in flash training. "Flushed skin. Excessive sweating. Reduced body temperature. Tremors." He pulled a handheld scanner out of his belt pouch. "Elevated blood pressure." He leaned closer and looked at Dart's eyes. The ARC held still and resisted the urge to flinch or pull back. He flinched from _no one_. "Dilated pupils." He nodded severely and replaced the scanner before pulling out a stim. "How many of these did you have?" He held up the silver vial and twirled it around in his fingers.

Dart resisted the urge to grab the syringe from the Lieutenant. "Enough to get through the battle. What does it matter?" He returned his attention to the controls, trying to keep the anger out of his voice, but it was getting hard to stay in control. He had never harmed another vod. Not intentionally.

But, fek, he wanted to hit Torch. Hard.

He clenched his trembling hand around the controls even tighter and felt a stab of pain from the unyielding tension. He focused on the pain to keep himself from striking his vod.

"It _matters_," Torch says, "every clone knows what stim addiction can do to a brother."

"I am not a stim addict!" Dart roared, glaring at Torch. A crack echoed around the cockpit punctuating his words. He looked down hoping he hadn't broken the throttle controls. His hand had stopped trembling.

"That would be the bone in your hand," Torch said calmly.

Dart closed his eyes and blew out a breath. "I needed to get through the end of the mission," he admitted quietly. "I was falling behind."

Torch lifted his comlink up to his lips. "I need to inform Mako."

Dart's eyes flew open with panic. "No! Not now. Torch, I'm asking from one vod to another, let me finish this mission." He met his brother's eyes. He'd never pleaded for anything before. He paused, hanging his head down and taking several deep breaths. Finally, he swallowed his pride and spoke truthfully with Torch. "After I was injured, I... never finished my mission. There is no greater shame for an ARC... I _have_ to finish this mission."

Torch looked at the stim in his hand and looked at Dart. "This is your _last_ one. I've seen Marines… tear themselves apart on these." He shook his head and his voice was filled with pain of friends lost. He met Dart's eyes. "_You_ owe me a drink." He smiled, although there was sadness in the gesture conveying worry.

Dart realized in the dark hallways of Darkknell he'd made a friend in Torch. He'd never bonded with any of the other ARCs. They were trained to be independent and solitary. Loneliness was the price you paid for being the best. He knew he wasn't an overly likable vod. He wasn't sure how to handle the emotions going through him and he swallowed thickly. "Understood." He removed his hand from the controls and reached for the stim, ignoring the pain when he moved the injured limb.

The Marine caught his flinch and scowled. "Di'kut. I'll do it, and then I'm wrapping your hand." He pulled down the neckseal of Dart's bodysuit and efficiently injected him. "Fek, you stink," he grumbled.

"We both smell like wet akk dogs," he snorted, already in a better humor as the stim hit his system. He immediately felt a rush of euphoria and he laughed at his own joke, loudly. Maybe too loudly. He wasn't sure. He could feel his senses sharpening and all the trembling in his muscles stilled. He closed his eyes and savored the sensation.

Torch was studying him, still frowning.

"I'm _fine_," Dart insisted, still grinning in sudden good humor and relief. His body felt perfect. He could go on for another week. The pain from his broken hand was gone. He couldn't feel any of his injuries anymore; the pain had vanished.

He didn't need anyone to back him up. He let out a small sigh of disappointment there were no droids in front of him when he was in such good fighting form. He was an ARC. He was a one man Army. He could take on the Separatists by himself. He laughed again.

Torch shook his head and muttered under his breath. "Hold up your hand," the Marine ordered, pulling supplies from the cockpit medical kit.

"Don't bother," Dart said, "it's nothing serious."

"It's your _shooting _hand, di'kut, give it over."

The ARC rolled his eyes and flexed his hand several times to prove his body's perfection. He felt nothing. He looked down at his hand. Alright, perhaps it look a _bit_ swollen. But, there was no pain.

"Dart," Torch hissed in a warning tone. He stood up, pinning the arm against his body, as he began efficiently wrapping it, "I will… call Mako _and_ the Captain."

Dart scoffed. "Rex? He's gone. "

The Marine glowered even more severely. "Captain Catcher. He's an ARC … like you. He'll take you down a peg."

Dart rolled his eyes, ignoring the threat. Nobody could harm him. He was indestructible. Besides, a fight with another ARC sounded _appealing_.

"Who's gonna fly this ship? You?" he challenged back to Torch.

Torch narrowed his eyes at the implied slight. "Yes."

Dart snorted, wondering how it was this Marine thought he could ever measure up to an ARC, trained by Jango himself. Fett had been right about the rest of the clones. He ignored Torch and turned his attention back to the controls. He shifted a bit in his seat wishing for something more exciting to do than sitting here and piloting a ship. His whole body was itching with energy.

# # #

Seven hours later, he was completely out of energy. He couldn't go on.

The swirling blue-white mass of Ando lay directly below the ship. Dart was so fekkin' exhausted. He could feel each individual beat of his heart. If his heart started beating any slower it was going to stop. Or, maybe it was beating too quickly. He couldn't tell past the roaring sensation in his ears.

And, Odds wouldn't shut up.

He kept chattering on with every fekkin' reading.

"Entering planetary troposphere at my mark... _Mark._"

Dart bristled. Any di'kut knew the layers of the planet. He was tired of the combat pilot's condescending attitude. Someone needed to take the shabuir aside and teach him some _respect_. He considered telling Odds where he could shove his 'Mark,' but instead automatically responded "Copy that" on cue with the other pilots.

_The stim had started wearing off after six hours. He'd calmly asked Torch for another stim and then less calmly demanded it when the Marine refused his request. _

"_No," Torch said, taking another reading on his scanner. Dart considered ripping the scanner out of his hand and shoving it up his arse, "anymore and your heart could seize." _

"_Give- me- the- stim," Dart hissed._

_Torch pulled out a stim, the coveted syringe glistening in his fingers. Dart sighed in relief. "Last one," the Marine said, showing Dart his empty pouch. He held up the hypo with his finger on the ejector._

"_Thanks, vod, I owe you one-" Dart was already pulling down his neckseal, closing his eyes as his body anticipated the rush._

_But, he never received the stim. _

_"Sorry, Dart." His eyes flew open in alarm, and he watched in horror as Torch squirted the clear liquid onto the deck plating._

In shock, he released the ships' controls, reaching out with both hands toward the small puddle. Torch slid in under him and took the controls.

_Dart covered his face with both hands, trying to keep it together._

"_Go lie down," Torch said, his voice flat and emotionless._

"_No," Dart took several gulping breaths, "I can hold it together."_

_Torch peered up at him, over their crowded position, both leaning in over the control panel. "I don't think so." _

_He could feel his body trying to tear itself apart, crying for another stim. Fek. How had it come to this? He took several more dragging breaths, aware that Torch was more patient with him than any vod had a right to be. "I need to finish this."_

_Torch shook his head. "You're in no shape." _

_Dart looked at Torch and he knew he had no right to ask his brother for anything. He was a total shabuir and didn't deserve to have a friend. "Please," he whispered brokenly, "I have to finish this mission." _

_Torch stared at him, taking his measure. He paused, and it seemed an eternity to Dart before he came to a decision. "Alright, we do this together… And, back on Ando, you get off the stims." _

_ Dart nodded, so relieved he almost passed out. His body felt weakened and he was close to the breaking point. Torch leaned back, letting Dart place his hands over his on the throttle control. _

_Torch's quiet words caught him off-guard. "You're not alone anymore, vod."_

_He let Dart completely take over the throttle again, and moved back into the co-pilot's chair._

# # #

They were coming down into Ando and the pounding of his head was aggravating the ache of his old wounds. The insistent chatter of the LAAT pilot was driving him fekkin' crazy.

"We're coming into a bit of weather."

"I see it on the bright band. Freezing rain and hail."

"Ah, yes. It's good to be home."

Dart listened to the others banter back and forth about the angry batch of precipitation visible on the scopes.

"I could do without the _weather_," Dart grumbled. "Freezing rain is a mess for landing ships."

There was a slight pause as if Odds was carefully considering his response. "Not to worry, Dart. I've taken ships through worse than this."

Dart wasn't sure how to respond, so he mumbled something to himself about 'shabla know-it-all LAAT pilots,' but he wasn't even sure himself what he said. It was getting so hard to concentrate. His brain felt clouded and muddied.

The others kept going on about the weather, but he could barely follow the conversation. He caught the last couple of words. The pilot on the ground, Razor, reported the storm was moving on and conditions would be clear when they landed. He called them 'lucky' to be flying on this night.

Dart snorted.

His vision blurred and a wave of dizziness hit. The other pilots were calling in readings. He struggled to see the monitors and swiped at his eyes. Torch leaned over, reading numbers for him, muttering words of encouragement in-between. Dart numbly repeated the numbers, calling them in.

Without warning, the ship was rocked with a wave of turbulence. Alarms started going off and everything started to shake.

"Kriff!" Dart started stabbing at alarm buttons, trying to shut off the awful wailing.

"I've got the alarms," Torch calmly hit switch after switch to shut off the alerts, "focus on stabilizing the ship."

Dart felt an uncharacteristic sense of panic as he tried to think of what might be causing the sudden turbulence. His mind was so muddled. He continued his litany of curses. He hated panicking, but he felt out of his element. "Who picked this fekkin' ship?"

He heard Travis make a note of protest but he ignored it.

"Steady, Dart," Odds said.

"Tell that to the damn ship," Dart snapped back. "It's shaking itself apart."

"YTs have wonderful qualities, Dart," said Razor,"but automatic gravity readjustment isn't one of them. You may be experiencing added turbulence. As Odds says, stay steady. And, try adjusting the grav thruster manually."

_Stay steady? Fek. Is that all these simpleton pilots can say? Do they have to teach them two line phrases in their training because that is the upper limit of what they can remember?_

He was about to hiss back a nasty comment. His intent must have shown clearly on his face.

"_Focus_," Torch said, with the same calm he'd shown when flames were roaring over their head on Darkknell.

Dart stared at the controls, looking for the manual grav thruster stabilizer. Torch pointed to a control directly in front of him. He gently eased it back and the shaking stopped as suddenly as it had begun. "Got it. Alright, it's stabilized."

"Dart, you're off course by a vector of 0.5."

He felt a trickle of irritation at the correction, but pushed it back and adjusted course. "Got it. Correcting now."

The forest surrounding Ando Town on the lower reaches of the mountains was distinguishable in the ebbing moonlight, as was the brightly-lit Fisherman's Field.

"That's a kriffing tight fit," Dart muttered as they came down toward the field.

"We'll make it," the captain's voice sounded strained.

"Why doesn't that reassure me?"

"It only looks small, Dart; a distortion of perception from the dark and our speed and height. Razor," said Odds, "link up with Travis. Captain Catcher, Dart, if you'll just take a short aerial tour of Ando Town, we'll get back to assist you in landing after we've unloaded the wounded."

There was a sigh from Captain Catcher before he took the delay in stride. "Come on, Dart, let's take a few laps around the sea. Maybe we can spot Hok's Oppee."

Travis guffawed, but Dart was too exhausted for clone humor.

_Fek. Seriously? He could barely see and this fekkin' LAAT pilot wanted to place them in a circular holding pattern? _

Torch gave him a questioning look and indicated the controls, asking without words if he wanted him to take over. Dart shook his head, he would see this through to the end. He was going to land this fekkin' bird if it killed him.

The chatter of the other pilots was a dim echoing in his ears as he focused intently on flying in perfect military formation with Catcher, following each of the Captain's moves exactly as they circled over the sea. He kept to the pattern more to keep himself awake than any military need for the pattern since they had the entire Andoan airspace to themselves. The distraction worked well for about 90 seconds, but then he felt the dizziness and tremors tugging at him again and it was worse than before.

"Travis, do you have your landing struts prepped?" asked Razor.

"Prepped and ready," the Marine replied crisply.

"Alright, on my mark, bank to your landing position. Travis, you're in quadrant 1; Odds, you're in two and cleared to initiate autonomous landing."

"Affirmative," said Travis.

"Acknowledged," said Odds.

Dart watched on his scanners as the two ships descended down toward the landing zone.

"Visibility is clear," Razor said, "come in on my mark. Three… two… one… mark," the experienced pilot was completely calm. "Travis is clear. Odds, you're next. On my mark…"

Dart closed his eyes, dozing off for a moment as he listened to Razor's voice counting off numbers. There was relief in knowing half the Legion was already safely on the ground and it was lulling him into unconsciousness.

Torch smacked him hard on the side of the head.

"Sorry," Dart muttered.

"Razor, land us next. My _pilot_ is falling asleep in the cockpit," Torch said.

"Understood," Razor said, "Dart you are cleared to land. Watch the spacing."

"Hold it together," Torch hissed, "one crash… is enough for me."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Dart murmured back, although Torch's comment stung at his pride and was enough to temporarily banish his mind-numbing fatigue. He focused intently on the controls and stared down at the landing zone.

He could see Fisherman's Field rushing up at him and the red and blue blinking lights the civilians had set out to mark the way. His vision tunneled, narrowing quickly, then suddenly cut out alarmingly.

"Fek!" he growled, swiping at his eyes.

Torch cast him a worried look, and he could tell the Marine regretted trusting him. He felt a sudden pang, knowing he'd let the vod down.

He shook his head, trying to get his vision to come back in. He had to make it home alive. Genna and Aen were waiting for him. He squeezed his eyes shut for the briefest moment, focusing intently on the widowed mother and girl he'd rescued out of the path of a speeder in the market two months earlier. He hadn't allowed himself to think of them before. But, he didn't want to die. He _wanted _to make it back. He wasn't the tough selfish bastard that Fett had tried to twist him into-

"Dart!"

Torch's voice snapped him to full alertness.

"That's it," Razor said, "you're right on course. Come in on my mark. Three… two… one… mark!"

He set the YT smoothly down on the half-frozen landing area, feeling the reassuring feel of the ship sinking down into the cushioning effects of the thawing ground. "Well done, Dart," Razor said.

He heard Razor calling out instructions to the other pilots but he tuned out the rest. He reached up to unclip his crash harness, but his hands started shaking again and he couldn't get the clasps to release. Olive brown skin covered his own and took over.

"Let me get it," Torch undid the clasps, and pulled him out of the chair.

Dart's legs wouldn't support his weight.

"Welcome back to Ando, vod," Torch threw his arm around Dart's waist, and led him out of the cockpit.

# # #


	9. Chapter 9 Circles

**Ando**

**Chapter 9**

Rosetta had integrated Sera in the preparation work seamlessly, putting her to work in a quiet corner, organizing the donated food as it was delivered. Sera had taken to the task gratefully. Shut away in the communal kitchen at the meeting house, she had a measure of peace and quiet from the bustle outside. It wouldn't be long now till the clones landed and the designated landing field was a chaos of activity. Watching all those people move about in a chaotic dance was enough to make her dizzy and her palms slick with sweat and it was a relief to retreat into the quiet of the hall.

Everyone was excited about having the clones back and the hall was alive with a buzz of energy while everyone worked. But, Sera knew all of these women well enough to detect hints of strain and fear when Karyn had called in those volunteers with some medical training. Auset had left to check on Sink, ensconced in an upper room of the hall, but had come back down for a tray of caf in a light cup Sink could handle and a few of El'la's spicy wraps.

Auset smiled at Sera, but it was a wan smile. "Sink said he'd leave the sweets for his brothers."

"I need to report to my station. Can you take these up for him?" Auset asked, her eyes pleading.

"Certainly, Auset." Sera quickly took the tray from Auset, so she couldn't think too much about it. Sink was easier than most clones to be around and he'd be busy keeping his eyes on the field as overview and communicating with the others.

Sink didn't even notice her or the food she deposited on a small table placed next to his mech chair for exactly that purpose. Sera had heard Auset talk enough to know that Sink ignoring the smell of fresh, hot food was an anomaly, but he seemed wholly engrossed in his task, which seemed to involve a pair of microbinoculars, one of the headsets Sabre had found and his own sharp eyes.

Sera had no issue with being ignored by the clone.

Aside from her constant nervousness - _No, be honest and call it what it is: fear _- around men, she would have felt terribly guilty for interrupting what was, judging by the expression on his face, an important task requiring deep concentration.

She left Sink to it, leaving as quietly as she'd come, with no evidence of her presence except for the steaming caf and spicy wraps.

When she returned to the kitchen, Rosetta was directing a small army of volunteers in chopping up root vegetables for the soup. Sera's eyes teared as she passed the station slicing up winter onions. As the vegetables were cut, they were quickly added into the huge cauldrons already on the stove. "Megs says they'll be bringing in a haul of crawl- and icefish shortly. We can add these to the soup and get some nutrients into these men. Can you make sure the flatbread is toasted? Karyn stressed how important it is to get the men to eat."

The kitchen grew noisier and more crowded as more women came in to help, turning Sera's quiet refuge into pandemonium with barely enough room to stand in. Added to that, the emotional turmoil brewing amidst bubbling cauldrons was making her feel like an intruder. They were all talking, wondering and _gossiping_.

"Did you hear they're being chased by an entire fleet of pirates?"

"I've heard they found a stash of untold riches on that planet and they are bringing them back to make Ando richer than all the banking clans-"

"All rumors," Rosetta sternly correct the chatter and set the women to work. "Remember, if a trooper has his helmet on, do _not_ startle or interrupt him. They have their tasks and we have ours. They are soldiers first and foremost." She eyed all of the volunteers, except for Sera, who never had been prone to such foolishness and didn't need reminding. "They are not here for our entertainment, much as some of you might like to forget it."

Sera heard grumbling from some of the women.

"That's enough!" Rosetta said sternly, and the grumbling stopped. "If you want to complain, you can leave this kitchen and wait back home. We have a great deal of work between now and tomorrow, and I have no time for your foolishness."

Most of the women gave in gracefully, though some wondered - in hushed tones, so that Rosetta could not hear - who had elected the elderly woman to queen of Ando. Sera kept her back to the departing line of women, using the excuse of checking on the flatbread to avoid attracting anyone's attention. She had no one to fret about should the worst come to pass. She felt like an outsider in an all of this activity, but it was a familiar feeling.

"I can handle everything here, Rosetta," Sera said carefully to the older woman. "Don't you want to see the landing?"

Rosetta had originally taken in four of the paralyzed clones and through their close association with some of the other troopers, she had come to know many of the men in the Legion; including Captain Rex.

Rosetta smiled up at her from where she was moving sandwiches onto several large platters. "Nonsense, dear. I can't let you do all the kitchen work. Let the young girls cluster try to claw their way onto the landing field like a bunch of clutching nunas."

Sera ducked her head, letting her red curls hide her grimace. Though she knew Rosetta had meant it as a joke, the unintentional comparison - putting Sera into the category of 'old maiden' - was a bit painful. She was, after all, only twenty-six.

_But you might as well be Mrs. Hannaford's age, the way you're acting, so stop pouting, _she admonished herself and concentrated on brewing the Andoan caf into a muddy brew, the way the troopers liked it, as well as keeping an eye on the several pots simmering on the large stove.

She looked up to see Rosetta eyeing her speculatively. "I could handle the rest here by myself," the older woman suggested carefully.

Sera felt her spine creep at the thought of being in the middle of the mess of emotional females trying to get a peak at the landing. "I'd rather take my chances with Xyra's oppee," she mumbled.

Rosetta, having heard her, laughed as the door to the communal kitchen opened and Karyn came in, looking harassed, grim, determined, annoyed and anticipatory all in one.

"How are you two coping?" Karyn asked.

"We're good," Rosetta assured her. "How's the mob of pheromones?"

Karyn rolled her eyes. "Safely back where they should be for the moment. Hopefully they stay that way. The rest of the volunteers have been discussing whether we should welcome the men home with open arms or open fire. I'm inclined to that second option."

Sera clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from giggling and Rosetta smiled. "Interesting choice," the older woman said.

Rosetta sniffed back a throaty laugh. "We'll let the men take care of making them happy."

She and Karyn laughed, while Sera stood off to the side, hugging herself a little for comfort. The chill that had take hold of her Rosetta's playful words threatened to turn her bones brittle. The thought of a man getting close enough to her to try and "make her happy"...

Sera asked, "How much longer until they land?"

"They're circling," the normally calm doctor sounded anxious herself. She pushed off the counter. "I'm headed to the clinic now. I had to make sure everything was ready here." Sera saw the indecision in Karyn's eyes; quite an unusual expression for the normally self-assured doctor. Most worrisome of all was a ghost of Karyn's haunted expression from several years ago flashing across her face.

"Karyn?" Sera asked, "I'll walk with you," she said, falling in step beside her friend, as they left the kitchen. She would need to head back again, but it would be good to get some fresh air. Before the war they'd hardly known each other, but in the years since they'd grown much closer. "What's wrong?"

"I don't even know if he's still alive," Karyn confessed in low tones. She sighed and looked off toward the field as they exited Fisherman's Hall, and both looked at the busy preparations of the landing field. Their feet sank into the half-frozen, half-marshy ground as they walked, headed toward Karyn's clinic. "And if he is, should I kill him for leaving me like that or drag him off to bed and keep him there?"

Sera thought about the question, but then wasn't sure if she had a good answer. "Do you think I'm the right person to ask? I don't exactly have the best track record on marriage in this town, Karyn."

Karyn studied her friend. She was one of only two people who knew the truth about Sera's failed marriage. "I know, it's just…." Karyn blew out a breath and Sera realized with a small measure of relief that her opinion wasn't required. Karyn needed a sympathetic soundboard who wouldn't go repeating everything to half the town. During the worst years of the war, the two women had been there for each other. Karyn had struggled with the loss of her husband and sons and Sera was dealing with a husband who spoke with his fists.

"Maybe I'm talking to myself," Karyn continued. "I want to _kill _Travis. I mean, he _drugged _me to run off to battle with Rex." Karyn clenched her fist. "Yet, I still want him back." She sighed. "As soon as he steps off that ship, I want to drag him up to the nearest room, yank him out of all that armor and-" Sera felt herself blush, and she was glad Karyn had stopped there. She didn't need the full graphic description, since all of Ando Town already knew about the doctor and the young Lieutenant.

"Uh… can't you do both?" Sera suggested.

As they turned up the driveway toward Karyn's house, the doctor nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, that will work." The determined look in her eye and slight chill to her voice caused Sera to shiver. "Wait until he lands."

# # #


	10. Chapter 10 Finished

_Author's Note: I think my favorite comment so far has been: "Just land the ships already!" I responded: "The ships are nev__er going to land!" Not true. But, I do enjoy corresponding with readers. This chapter completes the sequence with the POV of Odds, the lead pilot. It is a double-length chapter. __Next week, we begin a series of chapters showing the men transitioning to being back on Ando and the women's response to their return._

**Ando**

**Chapter 10**

The pirate raider was a roaring packet of power beneath his hands and Odds felt like a pirate himself as the powerful sublight engines kicked in. He was growing fond of the stolen vessel and turned to grin at Chance in the co-pilot's seat. Det looked back at him instead, meeting his glance evenly and all of his joy faded.

"That's a kriffing tight fit," Dart muttered over the comm. "Will both ships fit?"

The captain's voice sounded strained. All of them were fekking stressed.

"It will work," Catcher argued.

"Why doesn't that reassure me?" Dart retorted.

Odds focused his attention back on the pilots under his charge. "It only_ looks _small Dart, just a distortion of perception." Odds was suddenly exhausted. He glanced down at his flight sensor control systems and checked the positioning of the pilots. "Razor, link up with Travis. Captain Catcher, Dart, take a scenic aerial tour of Ando Town. You'll land after we've unloaded the wounded."

There was a sigh from Captain Catcher. "Come on, Dart, lets go buzz Hok's oppee."

Odds listened to Razor provide landing instructions to Travis. It was a relief to take a short break and let another pilot take over for a moment, even if it was only for a few seconds. He closed his eyes, feeling himself drift…

"Odds, you're in two and cleared to initiate autonomous landing."

He blinked, startled back awake, and glanced at Det. His co-pilot was deeply absorbed in checking a reading from the portside sensor array and hadn't noticed his temporary lapse. Further proof the man wasn't trained for this kind of work. A truly experienced co-pilot would have known never to take his eyes off the exhausted pilot for more than thirty seconds. Even microsleep could cause disaster at this altitude and speed. Chance would have known that. But then, Chance never would have allowed Odds to work himself into this state. Det looked over at him, and Odds gave him what he hoped was a confident smile. He had no idea what it looked like in reality.

"Acknowledged," said Odds to Razor. "I'll come in after Travis." His voice was raspy, and it was getting difficult to speak clearly. It was getting difficult to do _anything_ properly.

_I can land this ship. I can fly better than anyone._

He slipped the raider a bit higher and to the rear of Travis' medship, putting on his external beams to light up the landing area.

It was a good idea to wait, making sure not to distract Travis and, if necessary, that would leave the entire field for the Marine if his landing got messy. Odds watched and listened as Travis made a beautifully tight landing in the corner of the field nearest Karyn's clinic.

"You're next, Odds," Razor said.

His fellow pilot's voice sounded far away, as if coming to him through a distant tunnel. Odds released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding as he maneuvered for his own landing. He blinked rapidly several times, trying to clear his vision. Black spots were starting to creep in on the edges of his vision.

_Fek. This is not good. _

He had felt this way several times before, and it had never ended well.

Several of Ando's citizens move towards Travis' ship with gear. He tried to focus on anything he could to keep himself conscious.

Razor had trained the civvies. Odds hadn't known that you could train civilians to do regular trooper work, but the people of Ando were acting like a regular ground crew. It was fascinating to watch them hurry across the field, waving small lumes to help him navigate in the dark lit only by guidance lights. Those lights were downright hypnotic and Odds wondered if a Loveti moth felt this way, flying towards the tantalizing flame, moments before it caught fire itself.

_Almost there_, he told himself, as he swung the raider into position next to the medship. A tight landing, but it would give Dart and Catcher more room to land in the remainder of the field.

"Razor," Torch's slow cadence was easy to pick out from the other clone voices. "Land us… next. My pilot… is _falling asleep_… in the cockpit."

Odds felt a surge of adrenaline at the news and glanced in alarm at Det, who raised his eyebrows. He was thankful his own little nap had gone unnoticed by his co-pilot.

"Landing aborted," Odds said before Razor could even make the request. He slipped the pirate raider higher and out of the freighter's flight path.

_I was the best LAAT pilot in my training group. _He could make it. He could fekking do anything.

Det gave him a concerned frown. Odds raised an eyebrow and tried to give the man a confident shrug, forgetting how injured he was. He grimaced from the effort, as muscles spasmed and threatened to cramp. Det frowned even more widely. Odds turned away and focused his attention on double-checking the status of the landing jets.

"Dart, you are cleared to land. Watch the spacing." Even Odds could detect the edge of tension in Razor's voice. There was nothing worse than landing a pilot who was falling asleep at the controls. They were unpredictable at best, and at worst, their judgement was so shot, they ended up in pieces on the landing site.

There was a short pause, immediately followed by a burst of the ARC's impressive multi-lingual curses.

Odds' gut twisted, wondering if he'd forgotten to tell Dart something. There were so many _vode's _lives at stake. His hands froze on the yoke as he watched the status of Dart's ship on the radar.

_No. No. No._

"Dart!" Torch's voice snapped over the comms with the clear authority of a command clone. Odds grimaced as he wondered what was going so horribly wrong in the other cockpit.

"That's it," Razor said, his voice calmly reassuring, a sharp contrast to the panicked voices of a moment before, "you're right on course. Come in on my mark. Three… two… one… _Mark!_"

Odds watched as the YT set down smoothly on the half-frozen field.

"Well done, Dart," Razor praised, relief evident in the pilot's voice.

Odds let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

_I'm going to fekking hit Dart for putting me through that._

His adrenaline left him as quickly as it had come, and he felt even worse than before; weak and shaky. He maneuvered his ship into position, watching the fast-approaching landscape through the viewport. He noticed Det was still as a sniper; unmoving in the co-pilot's seat.

"Not afraid of flying, are you?" Odds asked with forced cheer, trying to reassure the other clone. His voice was even raspier than before, and he could barely get the words out.

"Flying doesn't bother me. Not crazy about landing. Haven't been in the front seat before," said Det, not able to tear his eyes away from the viewport.

Odds nodded and focused all of his attention and energy on the landing. He knew he was hanging on by a thread.

Dart and Torch were emerging from the freighter. The ARC was being supported on the shoulders of Torch. Several women were running forward to assist and he could see other teams headed toward the medship.

Everyone briefly glanced up at the raider as Odds flew overhead. This was normally the part of the mission that would drive home the joys of flying high and returning in one piece, but he felt none of the usual thrill that would make his fingers tingle on the yoke. His heart was as heavy as his limbs and he could only stare dully at the gathering ground crews as he steered the ship into a landing. With a groan of cooling durasteel and a whine of engines, the ship settled onto the muddy snow of Fisherman's Field. Odds let out a breath as the indicator lights on the navpanel flashed green one after another.

As the pilot, it was his duty to go onto the ships' comm and welcome his _vode_ back to Ando, but he couldn't move his limbs far enough to reach the switch. He slumped forward in his seat and closed his eyes. He would rest for a moment, then get up and help with the wounded.

"Odds? You still with me, _vod_?"

Odds blinked and it took him a moment to realize he was slumped face-down on the navpanel. Lights from a control console blinked back at him, glaringly bright.

He could hear voices around him, but couldn't register the meaning. Something about a 'medic.' He lifted up his head again and tried to focus.

Nothing made sense.

His eyes felt like someone had thrown sand into them and his neck was stiff. It hurt to turn his head to the side. He blinked at the _vod_ sitting next to him, trying to focus.

He didn't recognize this _vod_.

_Who? _he tried to ask, but all that came out was an incomprehensible, "Uh?"

"Hang on, _vod_, help's on the way." The clone leaned towards him, concern written all over a haggard face with a week's worth of stubble. Odds reared back suddenly, not sure who this _vod_ was or where _he_ was for that matter. He stared around in concern at his unfamiliar surroundings.

This was not his LAAT. Had he been captured? Was this a Separatist trap?

"Whoa! Odds! Easy!"

The other clone was bare-headed as well and wearing armor with markings Odds didn't recognize. Not from his unit and certainly not a combat pilot.

"I need help here! Mako!" the clone shouted into the comm. "He's having some kind of fit. I can't keep him down!"

"Try to calm him down. Help is on the way."

"Tell them to hurry."

Odds felt hands trying to restrain him and that panicked him even more.

Memories came crashing down and he suddenly remembered everything. Being shot down by vulture droids over Cartao and losing his wingman, Yaw. The horrible pain as the cockpit twisted and ripped when it crashed, taking his arm with it. The weeks in bacta; floating for an eternity. Coming out only to be told he would never fly again. His last trip was a one way flight to Kamino, piloted by a fekkin' droid. He wasn't sure it could have gotten any more insulting.

Until… Captain Rex. He was given a second chance and a second wingman. He flew again with Chance. His second chance.

Grief hit him afresh and he felt cruel lucidity come back.

"Det." The word came out intelligibly this time, though his voice trembled. "What are you doing with that?"

Det paused in the act of placing a hypo against Odds' neck. He gave him a concerned look. Odds' body felt like somebody had messed with the ship's gravity setting, but at the same time, his mind felt light and in danger of floating away. He remembered having a similar experience once, when his oxygen feed had been damaged during the Battle of Balamak.

_Is that it? Am I running out of air?_

The transparisteel viewport looked to be intact, but it was possible they were venting atmosphere from a hull breach. He needed to check the others to see if they were experiencing symptoms of oxygen deprivation.

"Odds! C'mon, _vod_, answer me."

He turned his attention back to Det, trying to focus on what the other trooper was saying.

"Hull breach..." he began, but Det cut him off.

"I heard. You've been talking aloud the entire time." He shook his head. "Kriff, you didn't realize, did you?"

"Symptoms of…." began Razor, but Mako cut him off, his voice clear and demanding over the comms.

"Det, give me an update on Odds. Is he alert and responsive?"

"No. Yes. Where's medical? I need them here."

"You're not the only one. Hang tight; medical will be there ASAP. Repeat, is he alert?"

Det hissed in frustration. "He's awake, but he's mumbling about hull breaches and saving the others, even though we're the only ones still onboard the ship."

"Sounds like shock," Mako surmised. Razor, by now, had wisely exited the conversation, knowing better than to get in a medic's way, even verbally. "Give me his vitals," Mako ordered. In the background, faint but audible, were distant cries and the slight hiss of static. "What's his pulse?"

Odds was about to open his mouth and tell them that he knew how to take his pulse, but Det was already there, leaning forward again and slipping his fingers to Odds' jugular, past the bodyglove that was already smelling of stale sweat and an unwashed body.

Det frowned in concentration, then cursed.

"_Shab_. Mako, I can barely feel it." He pressed a little harder. "Got it, but it's like his pulse is going a parsec a minute."

"Did you give him the adren-L?"

"No." Det sounded both affronted and vexed. "I was only supposed to give him that if he passed out. He's not passed out. He's…."

Det cast an uncertain glance at Odds, who found himself watching the other clone with curious detachment. He had the vague sense that all of this was important, but couldn't relate it to himself.

The colors around him were too bright, the edges of things too sharply defined and yet everything in-between was blurry and without definition. There was a steady rushing in his ears, like he was flying with an open canopy and he couldn't quite decide if he was too cold or too hot. All he knew for sure was that the pilot seat was feeling like a good place to be in and he wouldn't mind staying here. It was where he belonged, after all. Bred and trained for duty. It was where he had always expected to die.

"...passed out with eyes wide open." Det was still talking, but Odds could no longer watch him.

He felt very tired. So tired in fact, that he could no longer keep his eyes uplifted and hefted on Det's face. Instead, they drifted down until they rested on the deck plates, where a dark brown stain colored the floor.

That was Chance's blood, he thought and the rushing in his ears turned to a roar. Chance had died there, on that floor.

The roaring in his ears was like the pounding of Kazzie feet and again, he saw himself go for the hatch's lever, reliving the moment when he realized he was going to be too late, too slow in closing that hatch.

As if it were happening right now, he saw Chance fall, his body jerking from the slugs boring into his torso, his eyes wide in surprise and a steadily growing soggy patch where his chest was supposed to be.

"_Odds." _Chance's voice echoed through the cockpit, disembodied and without strength; a dying man's whisper.

The world spun and twisted, as if he'd somehow managed to launch himself into hyperspace without the benefit of a starship.

Instinctively, Odds reached out for some kind of steady purchase and his hand encountered the back of the pilot's chair.

When had he left it?

For that matter, when had he stood up and where had he found the strength to do so?

"Kripes, Odds!" Det was struggling towards him, stiff from the battle and the ache from the leg wound that had ended his time with the GAR. "Stay put, Odds. Don't. Move."

"I-I have to." Was that wheezy rasp really his voice? "I'm going to be sick."

Then he suited action to words and bent double, leaning against the chair as his arm clasped around himself, heaving as everything in his stomach decided to make a reappearance. There wasn't much, for all that was worth. He'd eaten during the long trek to Ando, mostly because he'd been ordered to and because someone brought food, but never with any real hunger because he and Chance had been laughing together and that had been all he needed.

But the dry heaves hurt his abdomen and the bile burned his esophagus and he tasted copper on his tongue and even in this state, he knew that wasn't a good sign.

"Odds!"

"What's happening?" Mako barked through the intercom. "Det, sitrep!"

"We need a medic, now! He's vomiting blood!"

Odds wanted to reassure Det somehow, but the voices were growing more distant, as if he were traveling down a tunnel at lightspeed.

The world started to turn again, everything going out of focus and he had enough time to realize that his knees were buckling before he was dropping toward the unforgiving deck plates. Det reached for him, managing to get his arms around his torso, and then they were falling together. The vibrations of the deck plates made his face tingle uncomfortably.

The roaring in his ears increased, drowning out everything else and the tunneling darkness at the edges of his vision was creeping even closer.

There were more vibrations along the deck, stronger this time, pounding with the urgency of running footsteps.

_Who was coming? The Kazzies? _

_No. We defeated the fekkin' simians. _

_But, not in time to save Chance._

Odds felt himself slipping off into oblivion and as he drifted off, he was still thinking of his brother.

_Is this how it was for Chance, towards the end?_

# # #


End file.
